Requiem
by Hese Solstis
Summary: AU Death is never the end, our bonds, links, memories of each other exist beyond that. In this lifetime, she was a Royal Iyashii and he the Fifth Division Captain. Fate brought them together with a sinister plot that threatened everything they know.
1. Chapter 1: Night before the Storm

**Chapter 1: Night before the Storm**

_I seek not to unravel the threads of fate, _

_Like many,_

_I am merely an observer, a traveller, a victim,_

_Drifting further and further away into the ocean of fate and destiny._

XXXX

Gentle gust of wind that carried strands of moist autumn dews and maple smell from her country blew against her. Soft and feather-light, it danced upon her skin just as how a mother would caress a child; every now and then, a small tendril of it would pull her hair mischievously and immediately, a lock of black sprang to life, enjoying its short-lived freedom.

Involuntarily, she brought her left hand to push the black strand back; slightly annoyed at her hair; one in particular kept sweeping down onto her forehead reaching the bridge of her nose.

She casted one last lingering look towards the horizon and watched as the bright warmth that surrounded the entire sky just minutes ago, vanished and was replaced with a dark cloak of night. Within seconds, darkness enveloped the sky, artificial lights and loud music flooded her senses. With herself perched high and standing on the top floor of a building that had long been abandoned, she casually observed the scene below her.

From where she stood, the image of a beggar groveling on the floor in pain after an arrogant looking group of ruffians kicked him in the stomach was left in plain sight, and yet crowds of people walked on the busy streets, talking, laughing and some just staring into space as they continued their journey. All of them too caught up in their little 'bubble' to even assess what is going around them; no one lifted a finger to help. Not far from there, was the so-called red light district of Rukongai. Bars, stripper clubs, brothels were open for business anytime of the day, 24/7.

That's why Rukongai citizens are deemed by people in the Seireitei as both being easy to manipulate and violent beings, ready to brand all the others who are different from them as an abomination, a threat to their world and thus these abominations should not exist but to be eliminated upon sight. The beings that hurt others and breed only more mayhem and destruction are no better than dogs that eat their own kind.

She clenched her fist hard against her black trousers, wrinkling her clothes effectively. To have half of her heritage descending from this vile race despised by the people, no the Seireitei she grew up in gave her no comfort, it just adds to the pain that she endured from her childhood days until now. It's not that she was ashamed of her lineage, but rather to see with her own eyes what the once glorious country had decayed into that saddens her. Her mother used to describe this place as a Utopia with thousands of smells and sights that delight the senses, not as this barren wasteland full of tormented souls. Her mother would be so devasted to see the country she once called home be reduced to this poor excuse of rubble.

XXXX

"Well would you look at that, an Iyashii returning to her roots, how touching," drawled a sarcastic voice behind her.

She stiffened at the sound. Yes, that's what they called Kuchiki Rukia, an Iyashii, an illegitimate child born of a Nobleman of the Seireitei and a despised Peasant as a mother.

Years ago, that single word would have sent her crying in tears but now; she simply could not care anymore. Instantly, she loosens the grip on her trousers and tried to smoothen the wrinkles before spinning around and greeting the person in question with a humble bow.

"Lord Shiosei," she mumbled.

A known arrogant but foolish pureblooded Nobleman with a lineage that boasts a total of 11 Council members of Central 46, 5 Captains and 10 Vice-captains, Lord Shiosei is notorious for his immense dislike of Rukongai citizens and Iyashiis, especially her. She knew from first hand experience how deadly and merciless his tongue can be. He never failed to criticize her every time they meet, clothes, manners, power, abilities… there was always something at fault.

XXXX

_Even the lowly servants in our service know better than to have an Iyashii as a child! How could a Nobleman, my own second cousin to be exact know and act less? Don't we share the same ancestors? How disgraceful! I refuse to even remotely acknowledge a Peasant as my second cousin-in-law, nor will I admit having an Iyashii as a relative and I certainly will not be seen with any of them in public! I will neither accept any invitations to their funerals nor lend an ear to their final words on the deathbed! God knows what diseases they carrying within them!_

She didn't even want to know what is his business here. With luck, he would simply annoy her and be gone the next minute. His verbal attacks never lose venom but time fortifies her shield against them and dulls the pain she receives from his attacks.

"Tell me, my dear. Are you plotting to overthrow Seireitei?" She kept silent with her eyes focused solely on the civilians on the street. Answering him, she knew, would mean that she was being disrespectful of her elders, but not answering him would probably mean the same too.

"No, my lord," she murmured with her head hung low as a sign of respect.

"Know your place, Iyashii," he spat. "You do not answer unless spoken or told to. Maybe I really overestimated an Iyashii to actually be able to achieve the minimum respect for her elders. Then again, maybe it was because her mother was a Peasant! Silly me! Peasant with manners, what a thought!"

She steeled her will not to give in to the temptation of being provoked and in retaliation, hitting him for insulting her mother. _A few more minutes._

"Hmph, impressive. Who would have thought an Iyashii was capable of controlling their emotions?"

"Thank you, my Lord."

"It wasn't a compliment. Seireitei would banish me if I ever compliment an Iyashii. Then, my clan's pride would be shamed. Of course, I don't expect an Iyashii to know the meaning of the word shame, especially one that seduces their third cousin's betrothed and leave their reputations ruined."

"My lord, I committed no such offences. However," she smirked, "I give my thanks to you, my lord for acknowledging me as a relative."

She hid her gleeful face from his eyes but watched in fascination as Lord Shiosei's face turned hideously red. She swore she could see smokes rising from his ears and nostrils.

_Ah, revenge tastes so sweet._

XXXX

Suddenly, she caught a glinting object speeding towards their direction from the corner of her eye.

_Are my eyes playing tricks on me? _

Confused, she raised her head to have a better look at the flying object. Sprays of moonlight bounced off the surface of the flying metal as it was sent propelling towards her. With its increasing speed, she realized with horror that its edges were sharpened and made to kill. It wasn't a trick, it was a genuine black shuriken infused with strands of kido for accuracy and sharpness!

What's more, it's heading towards Lord Shiosei, who has yet to realize the shuriken!

She responded instantly by pushing him over, causing him to roll harmlessly on the floor a few centimeters away.

"Argh!" he yelled in surprise, but as soon as he noticed a dangerous shuriken stuck at the floor whence he had just been standing, he gave out an undignified ear-splitting shriek. Cursing his incompetence at regaining composure and handling the situation calmly, she barked at him, "Don't just lie and scream there! Use your kido, your sword. We are being attacked!"

Scarcely had she spoken the words, two more shuriken came hurtling at the panic-stricken Lord Shiosei who was still looking dazed from the attack just now. Adrenaline raced through her entire being, as she forced her legs to sprint towards Lord Shiosei. Keeping her palms open and pointing towards the shurikens, she concentrated her energy flow at her palms.

_Concentrate and focus._

Jets of blue flame leaped to life at her palms. With a graceful sweep perfected by years of training, she sent them flying through the night sky intent on destroying the shurikens efficiently.

Just as the flames were about to hit the shurikens, a beeping sound resonated. Her eyes widen in realization and tried in vain to stop the attacks she just fired. It wasn't shurikens but explosion bombs! She just realized that she made a terrible mistake that could cost both her and Lord Shiosei's lives.

_Too late._

XXXX

"BOOM!"

A loud detonation was heard as her attacks came in direct contact with the bombs. The shockwaves from it caused both Lord Shiosei and her reeling through the air with nothing but air to cushion their fall. "Arhhh!" she yelled as her body knocked into the wire-barbed railings with a dull thud. For a while, her vision blurred and all she could hear was a weird ringing in the ears but when they finally came back into focus, she was shocked to see the amount of blood pooling around her. Bits of shrapnel and wire clung to her milky white skin like leeches and caused red oozing blood to bleed from her back. Drip drops of blood were also seen trailing down her right arm, her arm that she uses to wield weapons can't be moved.

_It's broken._

She bit her lower lip hard to muffle the agonizing pain she felt. She was lucky the railings didn't give way or she would have been falling down a 13 storey building. Death would have been certain for her. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same for Lord Shiosei. During the explosion, she lost sight of him. Now, she couldn't see anything because of this thick smoke. Worst still, the smoke also irritates her throat badly. Her coughs came out in bouts and specks of blood flew out before landing onto the floor. Not only could the enemy see her, he or she could also hear her.

In short, she was a sitting duck to the enemy, very helpless and crumpled on the floor with bleeding wounds.

With much difficulties but strong resolves of strength, she slowly willed her limbs to move. She eased herself into a sitting position with her legs propped before examining herself for more injuries. To her relief, both her legs were functioning fine albeit suffering from various cuts. That way she could at least sprint and make a dash for her life if the situation permits it. Her left arm was full of cuts and she could see some shrapnel clinging on, she ignored them since she doesn't have enough strength and energy to do otherwise. She wished she could say the same to her other arm, as soon as she tried lifting it, pain would rack through her frame. Then, she saw her tattered white blouse decorated in plain view by slits, blood and dirt.

_Kaa-sama is going to have a field day._ Inwardly, she stifled a bitter laugh. Here she was lying crumpled on the floor bleeding and facing an elite killer with full intentions to kill, and instead of thinking about her chances of survival; she was worrying over a ruined piece of clothing! Kami-sama, she must have suffered quite a bump to her head to be having such thoughts. She shake her head momentarily as if to clear her thoughts.

Instead of groveling here, waiting for something to happen, she knows that she had better start thinking rationally. With that thought firmly implanted within her mind, the clockwork gears and machinery parts inside her mind started turning.

_What's the killer's motive_?

She could see that those attacks were meant for Lord Shiosei and meant to kill, but why include her? Is she another target? Was the killer intent on killing both of them?

_Why attack now? _

_Why did Shiosei pay me a visit tonight? _

_Does it have something to do with me? Who is the killer?_

Rationally, the killer wouldn't have targeted both of them; they have nothing in common. That would mean that she was simply being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

_So, I'm not the target?_

However, she highly doubts that the killer would let her live after she witnessed the murder, either way she was going to die. Maybe the killer was sent by the Seireitei, but why would they want to kill Lord Shiosei?

"Argh!" a sound scream of pure terror pierced through her ears, her train of thought broken, she could only stare in the direction of the sound.

_Lord Shiosei._

Deep within her, she struggled to choose the right course of action. Her rational mind was telling her to jump off the building and using the air around her to form a landing pad.

_Don't you want to live?_

However, her heart, her inner soul was telling her to help Lord Shiosei.

_Is that what a daughter of Lord Byakuya does in a crisis? She abandons others in need? _

_What is courage if you die in vain? Who will avenge the others? Run! At least there is a chance you may survive. What good will running towards Lord Shiosei do? Can you fight the killer? Your right arm is broken, for God's sake! You could barely stand properly, let alone use kido! Besides, Lord Shiosei could be dead now for all you know? You are walking into a trap! Be sensible! One who retreats is one who is wise and ready to fight another day._

XXXX

_What good is it if you survive alone and managed to be rescue? The Seireitei would just ignore this incident and let you be?_

_ Don't be naïve! _

_Tongues will wag and there are many within the Seireitei who already expressed their hatred of an Iyashii among their ranks, they will just use this incident and pin the murder of Lord Shiosei on you. The outcome is the same, no worse; you could be executed publicly for murdering a Nobleman! _

_How will otou-sama feel for having such a disgrace in his family?_

XXXX

_Enough._

As if reaching a conclusion, she painfully got on both of her feet, and started towards the other end of the balcony. She decided that since she was going to die anyway, she might as well go down with a fight. Let them know that while she maybe an Iyashii, she still knows honour and bravery. She would rather die as a warrior on the battlefield, than be executed publicly and let the reputation of her father be ruined.

Pushing herself to hurry, she ran on. Then, she stopped. Everything momentarily stood still when she lay her gaze on the scene before her, she could hear the wind whipping against her and the lightning overhead, a sure sign that a storm was coming.

_Kami-sama._

Even if she knew that Lord Shiosei could be dead, and mentally prepared herself for the on slaughter she still never imagined that the sight would be so gruesome and grotesque. She felt her stomach churned by the sight of Lord Shiosei-or what that was left of his body. The mangled and twisted body lay in the middle in a dark pool of blood that was still expanding, swarming like an army of ants towards her.

The neat and pristine ceremonial suit he wore was now dyed in red and then she noticed that he was missing his head. She couldn't even imagine the pain he must have gone through, even if he was a scum, he still didn't deserve this type of ending. Her weak knees finally gave up on her as she crumpled down on the floor. She clutched her stomach and before she could even hold it in, she emptied her lunch and breakfast, right next to the headless corpse.

_Stop, focus! The killer could be still out there._

With her left hand, she hesitantly wiped the corners of her mouth. She briefly rested her palm onto her heart as she tried to calm her erratic heartbeat and hopefully summon her legs to move.

_Come on, get up! Move! Do something! Didn't you say you weren't going to go down without a fight!_

Her vision started blurring again. Her weary body already suffered numerous attacks and was simply unable to cope with the external stress. However, she still refused to give in to tiredness. She wasn't going to die without a fight. Desperately, she tried her kido. She tried summoning the spiritual energy left inside of her to go to her feet.

_None left; you already exerted yourself too much._

The news that she was at her wit's end was a shock to her. Unable to accept the fact that she was going to die under these situations, she panicked. Suddenly, everything around her was spinning and before long, they became a blur. She could no longer feel any of her limbs; her body had shut down temporarily. Her whole world was suddenly a cover of darkness.

With a roll of her eyes, she collapsed onto the floor. She only grunted in response when she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen, as if something sharp went through her, but by then, she was already in a comatose state, suspended between life and death with nothing to hold on to.

_Suddenly, death didn't seem like such a bad thing._

_

* * *

_XXXX_  
_

He had been observing the girl since he killed the old man. His superiors had specifically asked for his target's head after the kill for some unexplainable reason. The old man's severed head was placed within his sack, but he didn't want to see it again. The look of immense pain and pure terror was etched onto the victim's face, and likely to remain forever. In his mind, he remembered every detail so vividly. He knew they are going to haunt him in his dreams tonight.

First, he had pounced on the man. The old man was a sitting duck and a quick kill, so there really wasn't much of a fight. The old man was so terrified that he was down on his knees, begging for mercy. Too bad for him, Kaien doesn't have any and in the end, he could only scream in terror before the final blow- cut off his victim's head while he was still alive and breathing. He sighed, he really wanted to just hand in his assignment to his superiors and retire for the night, but first he had to finish his job.

_The target is Lord Shiosei. Kill him and leave no one else alive on the scene when you do so. Bear in mind, we do not want to raise any suspicions, so try to be discreet. We really don't need a repetition of last year's incident. I suggest you find a quiet spot before you finish him off. _

_Understood?_

XXXX

Since the girl wasn't on his hit list, he decided to cut to the chase. As soon as she crumpled onto the ground, he was by her side. His dagger sank deep into her abdomen. Bending down to pat her cheek with his bloodstained hand, he thought she looked surprisingly familiar to someone he once knew, from a lifetime ago. There was a nagging feeling that told him that something was wrong.

Without pausing to process this feeling however, he fled, thinking his mission was completed.

_Big mistake._

If only he had checked the girl's pulse, and ensured that she was dead for good. Everything in this world moves in a unified cycle, with every new action taken, different reactions occur; when you tip the scale of balance, a new cycle begins.

Sadly, he did none of these; what he just did completely untied the strings that hold balance in place. A storm is brewing, and right in the center of it is the girl he thought he killed. A change of unknown consequences is coming, and though he may deny his role in this change, Fate knows otherwise.

* * *

XXXX

Checking his wristwatch impatiently, Ichigo tried hard to stifle his seventh sigh since the past hour. First, they demanded his presence on an unimportant crime scene and now that the case piqued his interests, the old coots from the Seireitei wouldn't send his medical team. He growled in frustration, even if he was at the country's border; it was still by no means acceptable for making him wait so long for a medical team.

For God's sake, that is why they have **mobilized** medical teams in the first place!

Running his hand through his tousled orange hair, he wondered briefly, what was keeping the medical team from arriving at the crime scene. He cursed his luck for being in charge of the Seireitei's First Gate- the one closest to the borders of Rukongai. Truth to be told, he had been rather surprised when he had been yanked from his private studies forcibly by his housekeeper after being told that there were two grim-looking Guards waiting on his doorsteps, demanding his presence on accountant of an urgent business that needed to be taken care of immediately. Irritated at being disturbed, he stomped to the door and demanded rather rudely, what they want with him on this bitterly cold night, with an impending storm nonetheless.

After learning the so-called business in question was a murder case that happened in the Seireitei's borders with Rukongai, he was beyond furious.

How dare they ask him to stoop so low below his platform of work! Usually, these cases would have been ruled off as small fries hardly worth the time and attention of a high-ranking Captain. Are they purposely insulting his intelligence? If it wasn't due to the timely intervention of his housekeeper, who knew what he would have done to the two Guards. Like all his previous predecessors, he had a well-known temper.

Hearing the howling wind with his own ears, he frowned, as the telltale signs of a terrible storm appeared.

"Where is the god-forsaken medical team?" he yelled at the nearest Guard only to receive a blank look in return.

Patience was not one of his attributes. Annoyed, he turned his gaze heaven ward; as soon as it rains, he was sure it would be an outright downpour. The rain would then wash away the evidences in the crime scene, which would then make his job of analyzing the crime scene more difficult. Heck, there won't even be anything left on the scene worth processing!

Deciding to make use of the little time they have left before the storm strikes, he proceeded to examine the victims by himself. Bending down to a kneeing position and careful to avoid the blood puddle, he gently lifting the white sheet, his eyes widened in confusion, though missing a head, he could still identify the victim as one of the Council members of Central 46 from the clothing.

Furthermore, he knew from experience that most Council members of Central 46 hold immense dislike of Peasants- the Rukongai citizens were considered unclean from many aspects. Most of they would have avoided Rukongai like the plague, and yet this person was found murdered and beheaded near the borders. Ichigo was dumbfounded. He found himself quite puzzled by the severed head, did the killer really hated the victim that much to actually cut off the head? Was it some sort of punishment for the victim's past sins? Did another clan who held a bitter grudge against the victim's clan do it?

Bending over to get a better look, he noticed that apart from the neck wound that separated the head from its original body; there didn't seem to be other wounds on the rest of the body. That would mean that the head was separated or lopped off when the victim was still conscious.

He cursed his luck, as if being dragged out in the middle of a storm to investigate a murder bad enough, now he has a cold-blooded murderer on his hands!

Could this day get any worse?

Then, he noticed the second body. Was the second victim the perpetrator?

Was this case that simple, a meeting gone wrong, and both victims resorted to murder?

It can't be, the body sizes between the two victims were different. Lifting the white sheet, he was surprised to see a young girl's face.

Petite and beautiful, she simply lay there like an unmoving porcelain doll, with her black locks glinted in the moonlight; her long eyelashes curved, and her soft ivory skin that seemed to glow against the dark surroundings. Her cheeks were tinted a shade of light pink. The rosy hues on her cheek made it seemed as if she was still alive and well. Her rose-petal lips were slightly agape, as if she was trying to share her secrets with him. A secret that had long since died on her lips within delivering its intended message into his ear. For a while, he was almost tempted to believe that she was not dead; just asleep and choosing to ignore the raucous calls of mundane life. Reality however told him otherwise. He held his breath. She was like an earth-bound angel, one that remained silent and unresponsive, as if she was an ethereal beauty who had turned her back on the ugly face of humanity.

He clutched her cold hand in an iron-clad grip. By hook or by crook, he will personally make sure that her murderer ends up on the execution stand. He will do everything he could to bring her killer into justice.

Pulling down the sheet off the girl's body, his eyes travelled downwards, he saw a deep wound in the girl's abdomen. Probably caused by a sharp object, since the cut wasn't big, most likely a knife or dagger. Shrapnel and wires were also clinging on her skin, suggesting that there had been an explosion and the girl was wounded during the explosion. He frowned; he didn't see any of these on the first victim's body.

A thought hit him, there was no head on the crime scene, nor was it found below the building. There was a third person involved in the murder. And that person, may very well be the murderer, which then lead him back to the first question.

What's the killer's motive? Why was the girl's body left intact, unlike the first victim who had his head cut off?

Ichigo didn't like it, the more he thought about it, the more suspicious was the case. The first thing he had to do after the medical team arrived was to look for the beheaded victim's identity. Hopefully, the missing identity would be able to provide the link between the two victims.

Standing up, he suddenly heard a small groan. At first, he thought that he was being paranoid due to the lack of sleep and the cranky weather, but then the noticed how the body was shivering out of its own accord. Intrigued, he reached for the girl's wrist. To his delight, he found a beating pulse, faint but sure.

One of the victims is alive, but he was told by the Guards that both of them were _dead_.

_Not a single pulse. As dead as the corpses rotting away in their own graves._

XXXX

He knitted his eyebrows together in thought, contemplating whether it was a right decision to let them know the girl was alive. For all he knows, the Guards may have been bribed to make sure both victims are dead. The case just got more interesting and sinister. Then, he felt something cool against his forehead, soon the pitter-patter of raindrops were splashing against the pavements loud and clear. Taking it as a sign, he lifted the girl into his arms and started walking towards the Guards, signaling them of his found. With the girl's already weakened body condition, she couldn't have survived another attack of storm.

For some sick reason unknown to him, he found himself quite thankful that the girl didn't die. The idea of her being alive had lifted a tremendously heavy load of grief away from his soul and being. For a second, he almost felt that losing the girl as akin to his previous experience of losing his beloved mother. And if she were to die suddenly, he felt quite certain that he would tear the bastard who killed her into pieces with his own bare hands. He swore it upon his dear mother's grave.

And as illogical as it may seem for a man in his position who had hardly ever seen the girl let alone know who the girl was, the idea of her dying or being pain was just like an atrocious crime committed against his family, against himself. He wanted to share her pain, to shoulder her grief. To be her shoulder to cry on, when she refused to take charity from him. To see her tears pouring was a sight he never wanted to witness. To him, it was a crime that is demanded to be paid in blood and war.

Strange but some way or another, the legendary cold-hearted taicho of Seireitei's Fifth Division had formed a deep bond with an unidentified woman lying on the crime scene. He was suddenly assuming responsibility over a girl he had never laid eyes on. In a matter of minutes, he was already treating her like she was a long-lost family member of his. Possibly more.

_Great, since when did you care so much for a random stranger? _

He ignored the thought. Now was not the time to worry, it was the time to act. He refused to entertain the thought of the girl lying within his arms lying before him. It was unacceptable. He promised himself he would do everything he could to keep her alive.

XXXX

"Captain, what are you doing? You can't carry a corpse away from the crime scene! And, where are you going, sir? I.. It is against the protocols. Y-you could be arr-"

Ichigo gave the Guard a cold glare. The said Guard had heard stories of the famous Captain Kurosaki Ichigo's wrath; he definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of it. The Guard made it a point to simply shut up, and let the Captain have his way. Legal or not, he doesn't think it was worth risking the Captain's wrath.

"Firstly, the girl is alive, and therefore she is not a bloody corpse! Secondly, there is no point in waiting for the bloody medical team to arrive now! The fucking rain would have washed away any useful evidences the murderer left behind. So, don't you dare say I am leaving my post in an irresponsible manner. Thirdly, it's raining like cats and dogs. And I for one, have better things to do than waiting in –in this bloody downpour, with no umbrella and above all freezing! Do you want to send your superior to an early grave? You have your own fucked-up duties and I have mine, except mine doesn't have anything to do with standing guard on abandoned buildings in the middle of a storm! Tell my housekeeper to prepare a guest room and a warm cup of cocoa. I expect these things to be ready upon my arrival, if not, you know who I would hold responsible for," he growled, eying the Guard before striding into his waiting coach with the girl in tow.

Watching the retreating coach, the Guard scrambled in pure terror to finish his task. He counted himself lucky for surviving that particular episode in his life without being demoted or stripped of his duties. They really weren't kidding when they say that Captain Kurosaki Ichigo- Captain of the Fifth Division and one of the youngest Captain to ever set foot inside the Court has a mouth as foul as a sailor and a temper to match an angry, raging bull. He made it a mental note to never cross the Captain ever again, once was already enough to give him nightmares.

* * *

Author's Note:

Iyashii means vile in Jap. I originally intended the word Vileblood, just so you know.

How about that for my second fan fic. huh? Don't worry Kaien is not a bad guy in this fic. , he is just misunderstood.

Reviewing my stories makes me happy, and when I'm happy, I write faster. So REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2: Captives and Prisons

**Chapter 2: Captives and Prisons**

_Fear of the unknown stirs the soul,_

_But if I were given a choice,_

_I will rather use the muddy patch of uncharted road;_

_Compared to the overcrowded streets of mortals alike._

XXXX

_Drip drop… drip drop…_

She awoke to the sound of water beads trickling one after another. To her, it sounded oddly like water beads trickling from a leaked tap. She wanted to get up and turn off the leaking tap, but found her body too tired to compile to her heart's demands. There was a throbbing ache spread evenly along her body, as if she had overexerted her muscles. It wasn't painful to begin with, but rather an extremely uncomfortable numbing sensation.

_Where am I? Am I alive? Is this what it feels to be dead?_

She frowned, feeling as if she was being cheated on. Didn't they say death was swift and more pleasurable than being alive? Where was the enlightenment she was promised to in death? She wanted answers, but eerie silence filled her ears.

Weakly she raised her eyelids, letting her amethyst orbs survey her dark surroundings blatantly. She found herself lying on her back, suspended in perpetual darkness, like a weightless doll with nothing but air to anchor herself on. Below her was the daunting depth of pitch black. She shuddered.

_Is this the end? Is this truly death? _

XXXX

Feeling a lone tear streak slithering down her cheek, she slowly unclenched her fists, as her consciousness ebbed away. Bit by bit, she lost she senses, until she finally lay down paralyzed. Tentatively, she tried once more to flex her fingers, only to have them remaining immobile on the same spot. She cursed, only to feel the vague sensation of her tongue forming those words without any indication of them being uttered at all.

She wanted to yell, to kick in frustration, to leave this place. However, reality and darkness seemed unwilling to relinquish their claims on her. Gapping wildly for air, her breathing became laboured to the point of her practically wheezing for air. Despair flooded her. She struggled uselessly as she writhed in pain and agony.

"Stop this meaningless struggle now, Rukia. Why fight it? Didn't you say you want to die? You don't even have to do anything, just close your eyes and it'll be over before you know it," came a sweet, lulling voice from the lurking shadows around her.

It was like her mother's singing voice, only richer, deeper, and much more sinister. Like a siren's calls, it tempted her to simply sleep as an overwhelming drowsiness took over her.

"Shirayuki," murmured the girl as she caught sight of a flash of blinding light from the corner of her eyes. Feeling the calming presence of her zanpakuto, she allowed a thin smile to grace her lips before finally heaving her last breath as darkness embraced her.

Watching from a safe distance away, a lone white deity grieved for the unconscious girl. She shone with diamond-like brilliance in the dark, but for such an exquisitely beautiful creature, her pale and elegant features were marred with unbidden sorrow, while icy blue strands teasingly covered her heart-shaped face. Her downcasted eyes spoke of a sorrow that knew no bounds for the girl as she slowly emerged from the shadows. With graceful strides, she approached the unconscious girl while her white Furisode kimono fluttered softly around her.

Kneeling beside her, Shirayuki gently touched the unconscious girl's cheek. She felt pained to see the girl lying down unconscious while remaining wholly oblivious to her current predicament. Her touch lingered on her mistress's pale cheek.

XXXX

"_Sode no Shirayuki," came a booming voice above her, "the Council of Elders has finally come to an agreement. We hereby declare the judgment of Kuchiki Rukia. Do you swear to compile and to carry out the wishes of the Council, however drastic they may seem, knowing that they are needed for greater good? Do you swear to never utter the words spoken during this meeting to a third party?"_

_Bowing deeply, she answered monotonously, "I swear by the Council's grace that I will uphold my promises at all cost. Should I disobey any orders and break my oath, my soul will be forfeited to the darkness as payment."_

_Nodding absentmindedly, the head of the Council cleared his throat loudly before continued, "Kuchiki Rukia, wielder of Sode no Shirayuki must perish. Do not assist her and under no circumstances should you let her live. Leave before her inner world crumbles. This is your oath to the Council. Court dismissed."_

_Shirayuki's eyes widened. Her grasp of surprise was not lost on the many ears of the Council. Clenching her fists hard against her soft silk kimono, she bit back the reply that was sitting on the edge of her tongue. There was nothing she could do to change the Council's will, but she was still willing to try for the sake of her wielder. She took a step forward, focusing her gaze on the steely, cold ones of the bearded man before her._

"_Grand Council, surely there must be some mistake. Kuchiki Rukia, my wielder has never posed a threat to our world. Please," she pleaded, "I beg the Council to reconsider. There must be a misunderstanding."_

"_Silence, you insolent child. Who are you to question the Council's judgment, to question the workings of destiny and fate? Know the fate of disobeying the Council's orders are banishment and exile." Eying Shirayuki dangerously, the man narrowed his eyes into slits before continuing in a menacing tone, "That would mean isolation from your wielder and the fate of never resting your soul in our realm after your wielder passes on. I suggest you choose wisely. You are dismissed."_

XXXX

Shirayuki had made up her mind. Watching the prone form of her mistress on the floor further convinced her that what she was doing was indeed the right course of action. Bending down slowly, she carefully placed a chaste kiss on her mistress's forehead.

"Stay safe, Rukia," was all that she murmured before retreating into the shadows. Her lips curving into a grim line as a swirl of snowflakes appeared out of thin air and enveloped her mistress's unconscious body. Before long, the trail of snowflake vanished out of sight along with the body of her mistress.

For her mistress's sake, she was willing to risk her life, her power and even her existence in the realm of both living and dead. Her love for her mistress overrode her obligation to her own kind.

Shutting her eyes, she barely noticed the vein-like handcuffs and red bow snaking their way down her body, forming on her wrists and neck. As soon as the final chain clinked into its place, she felt a surge of pain running through her entire being. She lost her footing and fell. She could feel the scorching heat of the binds burning their marks onto her ivory skin. The smell of burnt flesh and smoke fill the air. The pain was unbearable. Throwing her head back, she let loose an ear-splitting shriek as the final mark indented its marks. A long line of swirling charred burnt flesh could be seen circling her wrists and neck in particular. She gritted her teeth as a masked man wearing black clothes appeared before her. Shirayuki did not meet his eyes, and simply watched in detachment as a mahogany door began taking shape.

With a turn of the knob, the man revealed to her the world beyond the sturdy door. A blinding ray of light greeted her. Wincing at the strong light, Shirayuki was given a rough push on her back, causing her to take a step forward into the light. Casting one last look at the world behind her, she sighed before straightening her back. She didn't shed a single tear as the door to her salvation swallowed itself up. She will not let her captors have the satisfaction of seeing her tears and fears. From this point forward, she steeled herself to let go of fear and sorrow. She had her choices, she picked the one she thought was right, and now it was time for her to face the consequences.

_No matter what happens in the future, Rukia. Know that I do not blame you and I do not regret my actions. I beg you, Rukia._

_ Live._

Feeling a jerk on her shoulders, she was pushed into the entrance of a marble white building that complimented its dark, gloomy surroundings perfectly. From whence she stood, she could see disfigured statues with broken porcelain littered along the hard gravel. All of the statues wore the expressions of dread. She wondered if they too were once the occupants of the despicable building, only to be turned to stone as punishment. Her hands shivered in fear. Disgusted by her weak resolves, she clasped them together and forced herself to catch up to the pace of her masked escort.

_No turning backs, remember? Shirayuki, you made your choices. Now, follow them through until the very bitter end._

Straining her eyes at the back of her escort, she was otherwise lost in thought, worrying fervently over her mistress's safety. There were after all no guarantees that the Council wouldn't sent another zanpakuto and its master to assassinate her. Following her escort's movements, she noticed that he made another left turn into a darker corridor. She followed suit.

The sight of an ill-kept holding cell greeted her. The solid structure was plated entirely with steel and iron grilled bars guarded the entrance. Assuming from the man's silent stance by the door, Shirayuki deduced that she would be spending the rest of her years in captivity here. She took a deep breath and carefully placed her foot forward, stepping into the gray cell with effortless grace. The interior of the cell was painted in a sickening white and contained nothing more than a simple bed, a worn-out chair and a table that was accumulated with dust and cobwebs. There were no windows at all.

She realized then what the Council's punishment was to those who disobeyed its direct orders. Complete isolation from the outside world without any living interactions with other entities. Like the various broken statues she saw outside, she too was trapped in this realm of isolation. Both were doomed to never leave this realm with their sanities in tact. She sat down on the wobbly chair, with her back facing the door.

With a sickening groan, the towering iron gates clinked shut, as if they too sympathized with her current situation. She heard a jiggle of keys as the man fumbled with the padlock. With the final lock firmly in place, the man then proceeded to leave her to her own device. His echoing footsteps ringing in her ears softly, until all but silence remained. Sighing softly, she continued dwelling in her train of thoughts, ignoring the rigid silence around her and her stinging wounds.

_There will come a time when you realize Rukia, that we both needed each other more than we both knew._

_

* * *

_XXXX_  
_

He eased himself into fighting stance. Smirking down defiantly at his opponent, he swiped the blood specks with the back of his hand. The punch stung.

Facing an ugly-looking brute that bore two-jagged line of scars straight down his face, Kurosaki Ichigo spat the sticky remnant of the punch down onto the hard pavement beside his attacker. Just when he thought that with an unsolved case in hand, a mysterious unconscious girl at home, an unidentified victim missing a head and a ranting idiot of a father who was practically breathing down his neck to get married was enough bad luck, it turned out that Kami-sama really didn't like him that much. Some random nameless punk just had to ambush him in an abandoned alley and actually managed to score a punch on his face.

It took him a few seconds to register the fact that the man was sneering at him. He growled and cracked his knuckles, that idiot must have a death wish. It had been ages since he finally met a worthwhile opponent. True he could have swung by the Eleventh Division and sparred with Kenpachi, but fights with that maniac usually ended with both parties sporting broken bones and fracture. He never understood the need to shed blood with real flesh and blood. Punching bags sufficed.

_But…_

He was always willing to make an exception, especially on stupid punks who thought that it was fine to _suddenly _attackrandom people on the street. He grinned maniacally. It was time for pay back and he's going to enjoy every moment of it. After all, he had an image and reputation to maintain. Imagine the horror if the occupants of Seireitei found out that the rebel of Seireitei, the fearless Captain Kurosaki Ichigo broke his principle. Punk or not, Kurosaki Ichigo had never backed down from a fight.

_Bring it on, ugly._

"Hey ugly," said Ichigo as he held out three fingers, "Three moves, is all I'm going to use to beat you into a bloody pulp."

Ichigo smirked. He could almost see the invisible tick and the annoyance of the giant before him. His smirk widened as the giant fell for the bait and came charging towards him with his left fist extended outwards.

_One._

Ichigo scoffed and simply watched in distaste was the giant in question rampaged like a mad bull towards him. The distance between them decreased rapidly, and the giant's fist was only seconds away from Ichigo's already bruised cheek. He crouched down. The man's eyes widened in surprise as he felt his fist colliding harmlessly with the air above Ichigo's head.

_Two._

Crouching low, he then landed a hard punch on the guy's chin. The said giant didn't even have time to react. The hit landed right on target and the giant's gasp of pain and surprise was cut short as another punch landed on his gut. Blood spurted out from his mouth. Clutching his sides, he staggered back awkwardly before his knees gave way under him and he collapsed into a heap on the dirty pavement.

"Three," said Ichigo snidely as he dusted away imaginary dusts from his white haori while smirking down at the giant. After inspecting his haori for further damages, he was glad he did not get any unwanted bloodstains on the garment. He thanked Kami-sama that he wouldn't have to have a talk with a concerned Kurosaki Yuzu regarding the said garment later. He heaved a sigh of relief.

Raising his wristwatch to his eye level, he abruptly turned towards the other direction and started running. He was already late. Glancing back at the still prone form of the giant, a surge of guiltiness surged through him, but he suppressed it. He made a mental note to ask Hanataro to check up on the guy later. In a blink of an eye, he was already gone, shunpoing as fast as he could to the meeting place.

The bright sun shone its last streak of brilliance before retiring himself for the night. For that brief moment, light gave way as darkness reigned supreme over the heavens but slowly, the silvery moon maiden took hold of the duty and casted her beamish glow below for her delightful children. One after another, previously unlit streetlights rose to their workstations. They casted their dim lights throughout the alleys, granting light and sight for the passer-bys.

These were the lights Fishbone D found himself surrounded by when he woke up. Judging by his currently aching chin and side, he supposed he must have been knocked out when he was defeated.

_Defeated by Kurosaki Ichigo. Failing his assigned mission. _

_A failure._

Fishbone D gulped nervously. His superiors never take failures lightly. It would be best for him to simply disappear out of sight for now. For his superiors, it was better for pawns like him to die on the battlefield while carrying out their respective duties, than surviving the whole ordeal but still a failure in the end.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he dusted his trousers shortly before standing up and straightening his wrinkled shirt. He mentally went over a list of places for him to go and stay for the time being. Nothing prepared him for the impact of cold steel prickling against his skin, tearing up muscles and leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

The next thing he knew was that he was lying down clutching his left bleeding kneecap that was missing its limb. He screamed as his eyes trailed down to the sight of his severed limb lying mockingly beside him.

His silver-haired tormentor grinned maniacally at him. With his eyes narrowed to slits and his forever-present grin implanted firmly upon his lips, he continued to survey his victim in sadistic humor. Right before his terrified victim's eyes, he prodded the decapitated limb in a toying manner with his wakizashi.

Slashing numerous wounds on the already decapitated limb, he only stopped his prodding when he heard a suddenly shift of movement to his right. He was right. The naïve fool was actually trying to get away from him while clutching his still bleeding knee. He chuckled inwardly. There was no escape.

As quick as flash, he materialized beside the bleeding fool. With his right arm wrapped securely on the light-blue hilt of his wakizashi, he pinned the cold blade against Fishbone D's throat. It prickled the skin and the already blood stained weapon was joined by another stream of blood streaming down from the new wound.

Fishbone D whimpered. With a quivering tone, he spoke, "Please, Gin-sama. Let me live. I don't want to die. Just give-give me another chance. This time I'm sure I can send that Kurosaki bastard to his graves. Just don't kill me."

"Chance?" said Gin mockingly. "You want me to give you a chance when you already violated one of our most important rules. Aizen-sama never takes failure lightly."

Lifting his ruby-red orbs and training them solely on Fishbone D's puny black ones, Gin echoed his famous line before slashing the throat wide open and a scream of terror filled the night sky.

"Bye bye."

Slipping his wakizashi make into his sheath, he dusted the haori on his shoulder but frowned when he noted some blood specks littered carelessly across it. Really, he was a seated officer for crying out loud and they sent him to do a small fry's job. He sighed; Aizen really needed to show more appreciation for him.

With that thought in mind, he slipped away from sight under the cover of darkness. Leaping deftly and dodging occasional passer-bys, he nimbly leaped off building after building. Only stopping momentarily on the roof of an ordinary-looking shop that bore the neon sign that flashed "Urahara Shoten" brightly, before continuing his journey.

Once again, he reminded himself not to get sidetracked. For now, leave the Urahara business to Aizen. His first and foremost priority is to find the Kuchiki girl who was confirmed alive and held the key to unlocking the mystery that Aizen wants so desperately to unlock. Last he heard was that Kaien wasn't successful in completing his mission, and was currently facing the wrath of Aizen.

Maybe he should hold a bet to see how many broken ribs Kaien sported after the ordeal. He grinned. He wondered why Aizen seemed so determined to order Fishbone D to attack Kurosaki Ichigo. From reliable sources, it seemed as if the boy didn't fit into the picture at all. Was it another one of Aizen's tactics?

He shrugged; he'll never know. Aizen Sosuke was both a certified genius and world-class enigma. You'll never know what's going on in this mysterious mind until he decided to reveal his master-plan to you. All Ichimaru Gin can do now is to wait for Aizen's orders. Until then, he had to find Kuchiki Rukia.

* * *

Author's Note:

KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~! Yay, the second chapter to Cycle published. Poor Shirayuki so loyal and brave, let's hope she'll be alright. The plot thickenes, will Kaien survive his ordeal? I don't know. (HEHE!) But what I do know is that Ichiruki interaction happens after this chapter, so guys stay tuned. Also, the update of Teardrops will be relatively slow. Forgive me...

Thank you to my reviewers! You guys are my inspirations when writing. Thanks.

Read & Review! Reviews brightens up my day! And when I'm happy, my production rate speeds up...

Bye bye~


	3. Chapter 3: A Parallel Dream

**Chapter 3: A Parallel Dream**

_How often do you dream of salvation?_

_Once a month, twice a year, thrice a century;_

_I long for it eternally,_

_For my life that was never truly mine to begin with…_

XXXX

The bloodied form of Kaien dangled in midair, swaying ever so slightly. Chains fastened around his bound wrist held him in place. His screams of suffering were left echoing in the stark white room, as the sting of the sharp blade made itself known on his bare skin. His body reacted painfully, causing him to jerk to the other side. The sharp pain of the sword biting into his flesh was horrendously afflictive. Every slash that was struck against him, made him wish for a quicker way to end his miserable existence.

_Kami-sama, anyone. Just kill me already. _

In some ways, he found himself to be like a hapless fisherman, stranded in the boundless ocean but dying of thirst. Like how the fisherman would have longed for the precious liquid to ease and quench his throat from the insatiable thirst of his, but was merely offered salty sea water that causes him to only yearn stronger for the former, he too was yearning for something he was doomed to be unable in attaining for eternity.

His salvation.

XXXX

_What is salvation?_

He used to think to himself that salvation lied beyond the rusted iron fence that surrounded the white building he was held at. It was the place where sunlight reaches his aqua green eyes; the place where he could feel the smooth caress of ocean waves against his dry feet. That was he thought of as his ultimate salvation in the beginning, time however quickly changed his view. Closing his eyes, he could almost remember the feel of the budding joy he had in him when he was told that he would soon be given a chance to visit the outer realm that existed beyond these dull, painted white walls. How he awaited that day, only to have all his hopes shattered in a simple heartbeat when he found out that his sole reason for venturing outside was to kill another unlucky victim that he had never known before.

These days, he dreaded the arrival of his 'mission', his reason for reaching out to the sunlight only to kill another innocent and entirely blameless soul. It seemed as if the sunlight can't make it into his sinful being anymore. He couldn't stand it, because the bright lights could only enter his eyes but it could no longer shine through the inky black mist that surrounded his heart.

His salvation, he decided was forfeited the moment he made a pact with his superiors, from the very moment he committed the atrocious crime of sealing the pact with blood. The blood of innocents he spilled.

_A new life in exchange for your past memories, life and whatever sins you had committed then. You could become an immortal. Join us, become the King's Royal Assassins. Begin your new life as an Arrancar and work your way up to become an Espada._

Immortality, promise of taking more lives, violence in exchange for your pathetic loyalty? Who would have given a second thought of accepting the offer?

A life free of your past sins.

_If only that was possible._

XXXX

He chuckled bitterly. What a fair trade his superiors made it sound. Espada, the Royal Assassins, killing under the direct orders of the King. What a grand title.

_What a fabricated lie!_

You think they would have treated them better since they were serving under the King. Hardly the way he sees it. His superiors couldn't even stand being in the same room as them let alone give them their due respect. He knew what the superiors address them as behind their backs, the rogues, the dogs, the expendables. They didn't even bother disguising their underlying distaste of their fellow subordinates. But then again, it probably wouldn't have weighted much on their superiors' consciousness nor would it have bothered the others.

Those who kill didn't serve for the purpose of having respect. Dignity and respect were probably the last things that would have mattered to them in both their previous life and their current one. In hindsight, the two opposing sides of master and servant were more alike than they'll ever like to admit. The former threw away their innocence the moment they accepted the promotion, while the latter threw away their pride and heart the moment they agreed for the task.

He winced slightly as a fine trail of blood trickled down his forehead. His body was probably decorated with scores of ugly wounds by now, but still he tried his best to block out the all-consuming pain. He had a built endurance, as did all the other Arrancars and Espadas. The wounds they sustained during their 'missions' continued to redefine their view on pain.

He ground his teeth together. Reminding himself that he was enduring the punishment he now faced as retribution to all the pure lives he had taken in the past. He and the others. They all deserved nothing less than this. Every single one of them that found their way here, awakening in a small separated cell with no previous recollection of anything, not even their own name was a murderer in his past life.

They had no dignity, no pride, no honour but above all no heart. The only reason they were accepted into the service in the first place was because they were the perfect candidate for these 'missions'. They were sinners in the past and had the honed skills of taking lives. No one would give them a second glance if they were to suddenly disappear from the face of the world. Their presence would not be missed.

XXXX

_Why waste time and effort training new recruits from the Academy and take the risk for the secret organization to leak out, when you have a bunch of elite killers willingly doing it for you? Why dirty your hands when you can have your minions to carry out the heinous task? _

That was probably what his superiors had in mind when the organization he belonged to founded itself. Till this day, the most sacred rule that all Arrancars and Espadas abided faithfully by was to accomplish your appointed mission at all cost.

Nowadays, the mission was their life. To kill or be killed. Some have taken their prowess in taking lives as their pride. It shamed them to be seen as a whelp that couldn't even finish a man's job. He was not one of those people. The very notion of taking someone's lives and transform it into your pride and goal in life. It sickened and disgusted him.

_Who are you to comprehend the tasks we accomplished, kozo! The lives we took were taken as an act of precaution. These people you killed were posing a threat to the stability to Seireitei! We are the unsung heroes of Seireitei._

But then, who or rather what gave them the power to lay judgment on others?

Can you impose your views and prejudice against others, just because they are a threat?

Taking the lives of others and glorifying it as a feat of saving your country? How low were you willing to stoop? Whatever sins your victim had committed while he or she was alive paled in comparison to the blood stained on your hands.

_Stop playing god._

XXXX

Another sharp edge tore through his right arm, effectively severing his right arm tendons. He screamed. For a split second, a fleeting smile went to his lips when he felt his blood pouring out from his wounds. Dying from blood loss, that didn't seem like a bad idea.

The smile however quickly vanished when two menacing voices from the back of voice called out. One of which that spoke with a deep baritone voice, while its counterpart giggled away in high-pitches and childish voice. His suppressed hollow was finally making an appearance after enduring the two-hour long torture. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. Just what he needs right now.

Voices inside his head while suffering a concussion, broken bones and blood loss.

_How exciting_, he thought sarcastically.

_Foolish King, has the induced blood loss triggered a lapse of memory and judgment in your pathetic mind! We are Espada, and like all Espada whatever parts that was severed would be healed in due time. Besides, Espadas were hard to come by. Despite the heavy tortures we are forced to endure, there's not a chance in hell that those twisted superiors of ours will relinquish their claim. To them, it was a sealed contract, made by two willing participants. One agreed to the rules, while the other made the rules for the former to abide by. Face it, king. We will never die.  
_

His blood ran cold as he shut his eyes in despair. Once again, his budding hope of death was denied to him and came to crashing halt upon the hard pavement of reality. He sighed. Truly Hueco Mundo was like a desert, no hope would ever be allowed to flower and thrive in its harsh surroundings.

Nel had advised him to throw away his heart since the beginning. A hellhole like this, she said crushes even the strongest of wills and hearts. Had he been a wiser fool, he would have taken the piece of precious information to heart. Sadly, he was too stubborn and was adamant in pursuing the alternative course of action. And now, he too was being punished in the cruelest way imaginable for harboring such ill-begotten thoughts; by having the growing hope he held within his grasp wrestled away with force. Perhaps he was a hopeless case for he would be an exception to the case.

Why couldn't they just let him die?

XXXX

"Stop. I do believe that's quite enough, Tousen," came a baritone voice from the far end of the room, breaking Kaien from his train of thoughts and halted his tormentor's movements.

Wearily, Kaien lifted his gaze upwards, only to be greeted by the image of a brown haired man balancing a pair of square glasses on the bridge of his nose. He sat on a throne like chair overlooking the whole ordeal or as Tousen had deemed it, punishment. His soft brown eyes which gave him a fatherly presence and the warm smile on his lips looked strangely out of place in the blood-stained room.

_Sosuke Aizen._

That was the name of the man. If it was anything that Kaien had learnt from his one hundred and fifty years of experience as an Espada, it was that looks can be deceiving and Aizen positively reeked of suspicions. Most of the Arrancars addressed him as Aizen-sama, since he was the only man who ever seemed to genuinely care for them. Those who even uttered a syllable about degrading or insulting Aizen will soon find themselves subjected to terrible consequences that can chill even the most ruthless of killers. The scariest part was that Aizen himself didn't place an order on you.

His _loyal followers_ exacted their revenge. To them, Aizen was very well God reincarnated. He even overheard snippets of conversation placing Aizen well above God; some even went as far as saying that Aizen was their sole reason for existence.

He had to fight down a terrible urge to empty his entire meal out of his body after hearing that. That man was no saint; he was a demon with a soul tainted with sins as black as the night. He preyed on others naivety, toyed with their hearts, giving them false beliefs. That was Sosuke Aizen.

The Aizen the others saw was nothing but a well-formed mask to fool and sway their judgments, to lure them into a false sense of security.

A man that could still be smiling after witnessing such a terrible grotesque torture was never that _innocent _to begin with. Whatever mask Aizen placed upon him, Kaien saw past that. Instead of the kind, gentle Captain everyone adored and respected inside and outside the organization, he saw a ruthless, calculating fiend plotting every single abominable plan he could think of. And worse part was that he knew that Aizen will not hesitate to carry out his plan at the expense of other innocent bystanders and also he had a large group of willing followers that would follow him to hell and back if he so much as mentioned it as his birthday wish.

That was how scary Aizen was.

XXXX

"Aizen-sama, surely you have placed more severe punishment on this man. This doesn't bode well with _justice_; this man openly disobeyed and failed to carry out his mission. He deserves death," finished the dark-skinned man as he made his opinion known.

Kaien stayed perfectly still, reluctant to gaze into the pupil-less eyes of his tormentor.

Smiling, Aizen immediately turned into his charming alter ego, all smiles and reasons. Kaien wished he had the strength to insult or even put in a sarcastic remark of the man, but his battered body refused to comply to his demands. All he could do was stay perfectly still while dangling away in midair and listened as Aizen countered in a velvety tone.

"Tousen, _justice_ is a strong word. Forgiving others who have done wrong is also considered as _justice_, especially to those who made a sincere mistake while carrying out the intended task. Come; give a chance to the poor boy to redeem himself."

"As you wish, Aizen-sama," replied Tousen in an emotionless voice. With a flick of his wrist, the trailing metal chains that had previously held Kaien in place, snapped into two even parts. With a heavy groan, Kaien landed onto the stained floor. Blood pooled around him. Too weak to prop up his elbows and stand, his pliant form lied stationary upon the hard floor, unable to make any noise as his voice was hopelessly hoarse from all the previous screaming. His blinking aqua green eyes were the only signs that he was more alive than dead.

"Tousen, fetch Nelliel into the room, will you? I think Aaroniero would like some medical attention," said Aizen motioning for the dark-skinned man to take his leave. Bowing, Tousen shot a glance of pure hatred at Kaien before leaving the two men to their own devices.

In the back of his mind, Kaien knew that he had once again made a dangerous enemy out of the Tousen Kaname who Grimmjow affectionately termed as the 'fucking blind justice loving dickhead'. As of this moment, Kaien couldn't have agreed more. Once he was back on his two good feet, Kaien had little doubt that he would be swamped with more assassination orders compared to the other Espadas.

Pain and tiredness quickly proved to be a lethal combination. He shut his drowsy eyelids, as he once again assaulted by the alluring temptation of sleep. He compiled without a second thought. The fiery pits of Hell were a better place for seeking company compared to being alone in a bloodstained room with a two-faced rat like Sosuke Aizen.

"Aaroniero, you have a new mission. You are to locate and kill Kuchiki Rukia. Gin will be helping you to track her down, but I want her head mounted on the walls once you come back to Hueco Mundo. Is that understood?"

That was the last thing he heard before his world turned black and the harsh pull of the disgusting white reality relinquished their claim upon him. The sound of a dripping tap water and the vision of sleeping raven-haired maiden soon filled his mind.

_Nejibana._

* * *

XXXX

The last bright rays of the evening glow silently crept away into the dark. Urahara Shoten was once again drowned in darkness. A sudden scratch of matches was heard and before long a small flicker of candle flame was seen in the unlit room.

In the darkness that threatened to swallow every form of light, the flame shone true like a beacon of light.

Though the harsh autumn breeze threaten it to blow out; it stood its ground illuminating its surroundings. Crates of merchandises that were previously hidden in darkness could now celebrate their reappearance with a warm glow of heat and sight. They could be seen sprawled along carelessly on the hard floor. Some were toppled over, their contents spread wide and unsupervised on the wooden panels; others remained sealed and unopened, leading you to want nothing more but to see for yourself what treasures were hid amongst the sealed boxes. Shelves were crammed full with knick-knacks that were uncommon but expertly crafted. The 'closed' sign hung around dejectedly in front of the shop's sliding shoji doors.

The shop was all but deserted.

The candle flame frizzled as another strong gust of wind found its way into the shop. Slowly, the dark silhouette of a lonely shop keeper could be seen hovering over a table that doubled as the shop's registry. The shiny metallic skin of the cash register lied unheeded and its presence continued to be ignored as the shop keeper eased himself into a better sitting position on the three-legged stool and focused his dark blue orbs on the slim sheet of paper.

His messy blonde locks were hidden under his green-stripped bucket hat while his eyes focused themselves onto the said sheet of paper. A simple pencil with sharpened edges was held on his right hand, as he scribbled line after line onto the paper. Complex workings and messy scrawls that seemed to be beyond the common understanding and knowledge of an ordinary shopkeeper soon adorned its previously clean surfaces.

Every now and then, he would steal a glance at the grandfather clock from the corner of his eyes. Time was displayed accurately as the long hand of the clock found itself shadowing the number 5 while its shorter counterpart rested itself on 6. He heaved a sigh before resuming his previous position.

Looks like Kurosaki-san was once again late.

It was then when he felt a sudden familiar spike of reiatsu in the near distance. It was rash, lacking severely in reiatsu control and yet held so much potential and power. It mirrored its owner's personality perfectly. The boy was shunpoing here, no doubt. He gave a wry smile.

_Speak of the devil._

XXXX

Instinctively, he reached for his cup of tea that was placed on his left side. All matters of concerning his previous writings were forgotten. He frowned as the liquid that touched his lips was not warm as expected. He was just about to yell for Tessai for another cup of hot warm tea to rid the chilly coolness of the autumn night when Kurosaki Ichigo finally decided to make his long-awaited appearance.

His tousled orange mane and hardened ocher eyes complimented the permanent scowl etched upon his well-defined face features. His insignia for the Fifth Division of Gotei 13 was stitched proudly onto the back of his white haori that was draped over his dark black hakama and gi, the standard uniform for all officers.

Urahara sighed. He pushed the cup of tea to the far end of the table before folding his hand together, the jovial, carefree mask slipped on with little effort. Tea will have to wait.

Now, he was Urahara Kisuke, the happy-go-lucky shop owner of Urahara Shoten and informant extraordinaire.

XXXX

"How nice of you to join me for tea, Kurosaki-san. And here, I thought that as the new Captain of Fifth Division, you wouldn't be able to spend more time with your favourite godfather. Good to see that fame and power hasn't gone to your head," commented Urahara with a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Ichigo scowled, unhappy to hear how Urahara casually referred himself as his 'favourite godfather'. Stomping, he ungracefully plopped himself on the nearest chair which unfortunately also happened to be the only other chair in the room besides Urahara's stool and was also conveniently placed facing the shop counter where Urahara currently occupied.

His scowl deepened, before retorting in his usual manner of annoyance. "Cut to the chase, getaboshi. Why did you call me for a meeting here?"

Urahara pouted. "How rude, Kurosaki-san. I guess you're not that interested in identifying the mysterious victim who was missing his head. It's alright, Kurosaki-san. I understand if you would rather spend your time in the company of scantily dressed women than an old uncle. Say, isn't it about time you settle down?"

Urahara snickered when he noticed the tick of annoyance that was slowly forming on Ichigo's forehead. But then again, that's what you get when you made the Great Urahara Kisuke wait for you. He decided to continue his fun.

XXXX

"From what I heard from Isshin, you've rejected every single invitation and wedding proposal of his. You should have heard him yesterday. Tessai had to set up a kido barrier to stop his shrieking. If it wasn't for that, his voice and lament could have reached the Court."

He tapped his forefinger to his chin, pausing as if he was deep in thought before continuing, "If my memory served me right what he said was, 'BLESS POOR MASAKI'S SOUL. HOW LONG MUST WE WAIT FOR OUR INSOLENT SON TO GRANT US THE STATUS OF GRANDPARENTS? OH, I HAVE FAILED YOU MASAKI. YOUR SON TURNED OUT TO BE NOTHING BUT A POOR BARBARIAN WHO HAD YET TO UNDERSTAND AND ENJOY THE PLEASURE OF WOMEN COMPANY! WHAT HAVE WE DONE TO DESERVE THIS?"

Urahara made it a point to shout the last part in the best shrilly imitation of Isshin, knowing full well how annoyed Ichigo would be. As expected, he noticed that Ichigo's knuckles were turning into a pale white, as if all the blood had gone elsewhere. No doubt, the boy was already thinking up several painful ways of murdering him without getting caught.

_Impressive. So the boy did take up some anger management training, we'll see how long he can last._

He babbled on.

"Come on, Kurosaki-san. At least humor him to get him of our back. He's practically been bawling his heart out to me this past week. It was Ichigo this, Ichigo that. He didn't mind you rejecting Nemu-san. The poor girl was after all rather stiff in his opinion and he didn't fancy the idea of having Kurostsuchi as an in-law in the near future. I think the possibility of having grandchildren inheriting Mayuri's genes scared him shitless. He was even willing to let the rejection of Hinamori-san slide, he said that the Kurosakis were never that reliant on Kido anyways, but he did suggest that taichou and fukutaichou relationships were very kinky. Still, he demanded to know why you rejected sweet Orihime. Now, he's very worried," he leaned in closer to Ichigo's ear before murmuring, "he's worried that his only son may turn out to be a gay!"

"WHAT!"

Apparently, the _gay_ comment was the last straw for Ichigo. In that instant, he snapped. His knuckles that were all ready turning white from his previous control for reigning in his short fused temper were brought down hard onto the counter, upsetting the table and toppled the poor piece of innocent furniture along with its contents to drop onto the floor with a crash.

Urahara merely stared at the destroyed furniture and the contents that were sprawled carelessly on the floor. He stood unfazed before making a dry remark.

"You do know that you owe me a cash register and a table now, don't you?"

Ichigo gave a loud bellow before unsheathing Zangetsu. The meat-cleaver blade gleamed sinisterly in the silver moonlight that streamed though the open window. With a jump, he lunged towards Urahara. Said man only spared the former with a fleeting glance before bringing the cold cup of tea to his lips. Just as the monstrous sword was going to hit Urahara right in the head, Urahara ducked.

Zangetsu sailed through the air harmlessly, missing Urahara by a narrow inch. Instead of cutting messy blonde locks, Urahara's green striped bucket hat was sliced harmlessly in half before landing onto the floor. Urahara suppressed a shudder. Kurosaki-san could be really scary when he wanted to be. Just look at his poor hat. If it wasn't for his honed reflexes, there really was no telling what would have happened to him.

Ichigo growled in annoyance before jumping back and sheathing Zangetsu back into his hilt. He cursed at Urahara's quick reflexes. He was so close. Next time, he was sure he wouldn't miss.

Quietly, Urahara stood up from his stool. He picked out the damaged hat, silently lamenting his loss before dusting imaginary specks of dust away from the brim.

"That's not very nice, Kurosaki-san. I do believe you killed my hat."

Ichigo smirked, before rolling his eyes as he saw Urahara cradling the sliced hat in a rather childish manner. Was it possible for anyone to get so worked up over such an ugly hat?

"Shut up, getaboshi. And stop steering the conversation the other way. My father is already annoying as he is; I don't need another goat-chin to breath down my neck to get married. End of discussion. So did you find out who did the unidentified body belonged to?"

Urahara heaved a sigh. He never was a believer in fate and destiny. But somehow he couldn't help but marvel at the turn of events presented to him. He could very well determine the fate of the brazen Kurosaki Ichigo who stands before him now with his next answer, but is it worth it?

To tell the truth, dragging Kurosaki-san, another innocent soul down with him and Yoruichi deeper into the conspiracy that could very well be their end? Images that contained his precious memories of the past assaulted his mind. He remembered an innocent Kurosaki Ichigo chasing after butterflies along with his younger siblings. Remembered the poor boy's sad face when he was told that his dear okaa-chan would never come back to him again.

He already owed the boy too much and took away so much from him. Was he really that selfish?

_Forgive me, Masaki-chan._

XXXX

"Kuchiki Shiosei," came his cold answer.

"That's the man who was murdered? A Kuchiki? Oh Kami-sama, Byakuya is going to have a field day. Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse. I'll hate to be the one to deliver the news to him." Ichigo swore and cursed under his breath.

"What makes you think, Byakuya isn't aware of that fact?"

Retorted Urahara, "Just because he doesn't say it, doesn't mean that he doesn't know. Keep in mind, that old Byakuya is a very private person, who makes it his business to know about everything his fellow clansmen do behind his back. They can try to hide from him, but that would never last long. I wouldn't put him above spying for the sake of his clan."

Ichigo growled, running a hand through his tousled orange locks in annoyance. "He can't do that. He's withholding precious information from the concerned division. It's against the laws."

Urahara stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, before answering in a bored tone. "And as a Head of a noble family like the Kuchikis, he also **makes** the laws."

Ichigo cursed, while Urahara merely watched the developing scene in a lazy manner, silently keeping count of how many swear words he could put in a single sentence, most of whom involved murdering the Kuchiki noble in painful ways. He shrugged. Well, he should be thankful; at least the boy isn't taking his anger out on his merchandise like the last time.

Ichigo seemed to have calmed down as his rant slowly came to halt. Wearily, he rubbed his tired eyes. The lack of sleep seemed to be another downside of him being a Captain. That and his current unsolved murder case. A Kuchiki?

_Damn. _

He scowled. Things were never easy when you have a cold-blooded murder case in your hands. Throw in a member of the leading nobility family in Seireitei. And you have one hell of a problem. He rubbed his temples in annoyance.

"Last question, who's the unconscious girl? Please tell me, that she's not some long-lost relative of Byakuya."

"No, she's not."

A sigh of relief could be heard as Ichigo thanked Kami-sama for sparing him to deal with a case that consisted too many of the prestigious Kuchiki family members. Maybe Kami-sama didn't hate him that much. He would definitely remind Yuzu to make special delicacies for the festival next month that was held yearly in honour of the reign of the Winter goddess or what about donating to the new shrine that was to be constructed in the city hall. He supposed he could make a handsome donation to the cause.

XXXX

"She's Kuchiki Rukia, his illegitimate daughter."

All thoughts of giving thanks to the Kami-sama promptly flew out of the window. The next thing he did, was shouting in his loudest voice possible before letting out a string of profanities. Kami-sama really must** hate** him. As if one Kuchiki wasn't enough, he just had to have another Kuchiki noblewoman involved.

The girl was the current Sixth Division Captain's direct descendant! He grimaced. He couldn't believe the connection between the girl and her notoriously strict, law-abiding prissy of a father who always seemed to, in his _humble_ opinion, have a pole stuck in his ass permanently. Granted that they both have the same black hair, but to have them calling each other 'father' and 'daughter'? That was too much.

Urahara looked at Ichigo with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. Poor boy, his luck must be really bad this year round. Imagine having to deal with his least favourite person in the Gotei 13 all because of a simple murder case that becomes even more complicated every time he received new information.

"Oh and by the way, Kurosaki-san? Isshin mentioned that you have been spending a lot of time tending to the currently unconscious Kuchiki princess. Are you, by any chance in love with her? Should I congratulate Byakuya of an impending marriage between the two families? It's never to late to call in the in-laws, you know? I'm sure they don't want their daughter to die alone. Since she's currently lying unconscious, I doubt that they will refuse the offer. The idea of his daughter dying unwed. Even _the_ heartless Byakuya would forgive the haste of the marriage and grant you her hand," teased Urahara in a sing-song voice.

Tints of red hues appeared on Ichigo's face. His face burning hot, he grabbed hold of Urahara's shirt, shaking him like a rag-doll.

"Shut up! You old geezer! And stop saying that Rukia will die. She's not going to die, I will personally make sure of it,"growled Ichigo with his blazing pair of ocher orbs glaring at Urahara.

Urahara merely smiled derisively, making a show of dusting his sleeves before disentangling himself from the loud-mouthed captain's iron-clad grip.

"So it's _Rukia_ now. Yare, yare. Kurosaki-san for a guy who claims he's not in love and not informed about her identity. You apparently have the capability to call her by her given name and manage to sound like her lover. You wasted all that potential of acting into becoming a captain? How sad," grinned Urahara hiding behind his open fan.

"I said 'shut up'! You fucking bastard,"hollered Ichigo was he randomly took hold of a box nearby and hurled it towards the shopkeeper. His face contorted angrily in thinly veiled rage, his chest heaving of frustration.

"Kurosaki-san. You might consider going back home. It's already six-forty five. Didn't Isshin say that your curfew as at seven? I'll hurry if I were you," came Urahara careless remark as he narrowly dodged the incoming box.

Ichigo froze before checking his wristwatch. Oh, Kami-sama, he's late.

_Again._

Anger was laced in his tone as he directed it towards the blonde-haired shopkeeper. "Why didn't you tell me? And I thought there was a grandfather clock in your shop!"

"But Kurosaki-san, you didn't ask. Besides, the poor thing was broken since your last visit. You broke it yourself and forgot to repair it. Tessai said that repairing broken clocks aren't his forte."

He growled. Urahara merely watch in amusement as the blurry image of a certain rash Kurosaki Ichigo was seen shunpoing under the cover of the dark night. Bending down, he lazily inserted a copper rusted key into the hidden compartment of the toppled desk.

As the lock opened with a 'click', his greedy hands immediately grabbed one of the many hidden bottles of sake. He gleefully uncorked the bottle before emptying its fiery contents in a quick gulp. Really, he made such a great sacrifice for the meeting that Kurosaki-san had taken for granted. Tea was for keeping him somber during the meeting, now that it's adjourned.

It's sake time. After all, who wanted to stay sober when all they could think about was their dark-skinned lover with her infamous feline grace and that mischievous Cheshire grin that never ceased to take his breath away. He sighed. In the end of the day, even a genius like Urahara Kisuke is not spared from the never-ending longing for a beloved sweetheart.

In hindsight, even a genius isn't bright enough to distance himself from love.

_What is love?_

Everyone held their own pointed view on that subject. Some likened it to honey that sweetens the soul and body, others scorned it like the dirt beneath their boots; useless and utterly uncalled for. How can anyone survive on love alone?

Those views were like two ends of the spectrum. Was love always this extreme? Must it always either end in pain or pleasure but never both? If so, why?

He sighed. Everything concerned with the human hearts were always associated with the words like 'pain', 'joy' and above all 'complicated'. Is that all there is to it in love? Do all humans love?

Love, he mused, drew mortals alike as would the flame drew in the moths. It has destroyed lives, conquered nations and even made miracles. It was also the catalyst of a ceaseless war, waged by a psychotic man driven by the loss of his beloved. A woman he loved but was doomed to never be loved by.

_Sosuke Aizen and Hirako Masaki. _

He snorted as he took another gulp of the fiery liquid. That was certainly a pair that never existed save perhaps in that deranged man's mind. Memory took hold of his mind as he basked in the solitude of the dark, desolate room. Images of the past assaulted his senses. He remembered it vividly. The auburn-haired beauty loved by all but destined to only be admired by far. The charming know-it-all admired by all but held everyone else in contempt.

She was the clan's priestess who was to never be wedded with any mortal men, he was the certified prodigy of his clan who was adamant in having no one else as wife but her. Their meeting was a catastrophe in the making, the cause of the chain-reaction that takes place eons after their meeting. That meeting was doomed to be the start of a waging battle of a mad man against nature's cycle of reincarnation and fate.

It was tragedy. It was heartbreak. It was love that proved to be the final catalyst to the reincarnation bind and arising headaches of his time.

Sometimes, Urahara wished he could turn back time. Turn it back to one thousand five hundred years from now. Turn it back to the time when he was still the same blond-haired, brown-eyed, skirt-chasing simpleton, Hirako Shinji, where talks of reincarnation and fate were a lifetime away. But then, this was also the man who introduced the notorious Sosuke Aizen to his beautiful sister, Hirako Masaki.

If only he could turn back the pendulum, turn it back to the time when he could undo the meeting between the madman and the priestess.

And spare the fate the countless innocents drawn in to the rampage and pillage of Aizen. Spare them from the ceaseless bloodshed and sacrifice that robbed them of their respective wills and minds; making them nothing more than empty vessels as they drop to their knees in surrender. But that too was meaningless. They fall onto their cold graves, only to continue their suffering in the next life.

He shut his weary eyes, tired of gazing into the mocking smile of the crescent moon that hung itself on the dark night sky.

A life free of your past sins.

_If only that was possible._

* * *

XXXX

Inoue Orihime once again found herself kneeling before the small shrine dedicated to her brother. The room where the shrine was placed used to be her brother's when he was serving under the Kurosakis. She threw a casual glance at the room. Even after fifteen years. Nothing changed in the room. The walls were still covered in a shade of beige. A four-poster bed still laid itself in the center of the room and a small wardrobe still stood to the left of the bed. The room still held the scent of lingering sunflower, the memories of her deceased brother. The small shrine was the only addition to the room.

That and the unconscious maiden that was currently asleep on the large bed. She stole another glance at the sleeping girl. Slowly she rested her palm on her forehead, a small smile rose to her soft lips when she realized that her temperature had gone down. Perhaps there was still hope for the ill girl.

Kurosaki-kun had brought the poor girl, drenched and soaked to the estate a week ago. She was immediately entrusted into Orihime's care upon her arrival. And since then, her temperature had been on the rise and Kurosaki-kun had been by her side. Orihime was besides herself with worry.

Both of the girl's condition and of her beloved's strange behaviour. Since the past week, she had noticed that the young master of the Kurosaki household had taken a penchant with slipping into the ill girl's room unattended and unchaperoned. She hid herself behind the shadows, watching as Kurosaki-kun gently takes the poor girl's small hands into his own bigger ones. Sometimes, he would simply stare at the girl, occasionally bringing forth a hand to sweep away a strand of ebony that obscured his view of the nameless girl.

Orihime looked on with green envy. If only all those sweet actions were directed towards her instead. But that was not to be. She told herself that those actions simply spoke of Kurosaki-kun's kindness towards others, and was by no means any romantic inclination towards the girl.

But even then, her own heart could see that she was lying. Lying to herself.

She smoothed away the wrinkles on her pink kimono before folding her hands together onto her lap.

A small pot filled with ashes and burning incents was placed before her. She didn't mind the smell as her peering, cheerful grey orbs stared at the smiling portrait of her deceased older brother, Sora with a smile that didn't reach her heart. The kind eyes of her brother stared back, as if prompting her to share her worries with him. She wiped the stray tear that had slithered down her cheek unknowingly. Tears were threatening to pour out from the corner of her eyes. She really didn't want to let her brother see her like this. She didn't want to make him worry about her. He should rest in peace.

But her tears, they just wouldn't leave her alone. She didn't hold a grudge against the Kurosakis. On the contrary, she adored them. They were the ones who took her in regardless of her past when her elder brother had died in a horrible accident. They treated her with kindness and respect; she came to love them as her family. They filled her with a warmth and joy, they are her family. If it weren't for them, she would still be on the streets, homeless and penniless.

_So why, why did Kurosaki-kun rejected her yet again?_

She loved him beyond the love of a sister has for their brother, beyond the love and admiration she held of Sora. So why did he reject her yet again?

Didn't he know that her aching, fragile heart that had been pining over him since the moment they first laid eyes on each other was threatening to break into tiny chips of fragments every single time he said 'no' to her?

She wondered how long she could keep up her appearance of nonchalance and fake cheerfulness in front of him before she ultimately breaks down. The truth and consequences were daunting and dangerously teetering, as if their relationship was at the edge of a hopeless slide of earth, hanging in unbalance and threatening to topple.

Her sharp ears caught the sound of the door knob twisting. Hastily, she got up from her kneeling position, the false smile plastered onto her lips. Her sadness melted away like how the grey mists vanished as the rays of sunlight touched the earth. Her grey orbs focused themselves onto the figure of a tired-looking Kurosaki Ichigo coming into the room. Her mouth opened, a greeting forming on tip of her tongue.

She caught sight of his warm ocher orbs doubling in size as those eyes swept through the room. Her heart leaped of joy. Any moment now, he was going to greet her and apologize. He'll accept her as his wife. They will be together forever. Eternally bonded by a red thread called fate.

_Say my name, Kurosaki-kun. Say Orihime. _

_Greet _**me**_._

XXXX

"Rukia,"

She froze, before puzzlement became evident in her beautiful features. She frowned, just who in the world was Rukia? Did she hear him wrong? Maybe aliens from outer space had kidnapped her Kurosaki-kun and replaced him with a clone. The clone's memory must be incomplete, so Kurosaki-kun had mistaken 'Orihime' and 'Rukia'. After all, those two names were pretty similar.

_Right?_

But then, why was he looking past her instead of focusing those smothering orbs of his on her. What was wrong? She followed his gaze, and felt the cold tendrils of death wrapping themselves around her new found hope, crushing it into pieces effectively.

Because in her mind that was immersed with thoughts, she had forgotten that she wasn't the only occupant in the room. Lying on the plush mattress of a four-poster bed was the pale, unconscious girl placed under her protection and care ever since Kurosaki-kun brought her to the Kurosaki Manor. And said girl seemed to have awakened from her deep sleep, as her violet, shimmering orbs swept through the room. She watched as those bewitching orbs ran through her wearing a simple pink kimono, past the small shrine dedicated to her brother before falling onto the well-built figure of the love of her life, Kurosaki Ichigo.

In the instant, smothering ocher met radiant violet. Her pale orbs could only dull and waned in existence as an unknown and entirely unfamiliar feeling gripped at her heart. It was painful, new tears were quick to form at the corner of her eyes. Somehow, she had a feeling that her Kurosaki-kun would now forever be unattainable to her now. He was lost to her forever. Their red thread of fate ruthlessly cut into ribbons by the cruel scissors called destiny.

"Inoue, leave this room. Don't even bother to call me down for dinner. And lock the door before you leave, will you?"

His deep, masculine voice shook her out of her reverie. A bitter smile threatened to appear on her colourless lips. Inoue, it was always Inoue, never Orihime. Yet, he called the mysterious girl by her given name. One she was sure, he too had never met before. Jealousy clawed at her heart. She lost to a complete stranger he never met. He forsaken their twenty year bond for a stranger his eyes had never seen before.

She swallowed her pride and anger. Holding her head high and what that was left of her dignity, she marched out of the door before slamming the mahogany oak door shut. Tears sprang free as she rid herself out of his demanding presence. The only thing her ears heard as she hurried down the stairs into her own bedroom was the sound of her poor shattered heart that was broken beyond recognition.

* * *

Author's Note:

Hey! I'm back, here's too Chap. 3! Poor Orihime, made me feel sorry for her and please don't hate me for somewhat bashing her. I needed to make her look like the believable broken-hearted girl in this story. But then again, don't worry. Her special someone would soon be waiting for her and appear by her side. *cough* I suppose I really shouldn't spoil the surprise so wait and see folks. Also, Teardrops as I have mentioned is already posted. Go check it out!

AND guys, don't forget to drop a nice Review for me along the way, or Rukia gets it *evil gleam* and Ichigo will hunt you all down *HAHAHA*


	4. Chapter 4: A Lecture of Origins

Caution: The authoress would like to suggest that you reread chapter 3, specifically the part of the meeting between Urahara and Ichigo to have a better understanding of the story. Some parts of the story and its chapters may have been edited after 8 months of her absence of updates.

Thank you all who reviewed and alerted and favourited the story. Your help is very much appreciated and valued. And no, I am not dead. The update is a proof of my life status.

Thank you! ;]

* * *

**Chapter 4: A Lecture of Origins**

_Understanding hatred;_

_Recognizing anguish;_

_I suppose those are among some of the recurring themes in life;_

_Some just never seemed to master the skill. _

XXXX

Soul to soul: A Basic Understanding of Zanpakuto (Mandatory for all students of the Academy)

_Foreword_

This subject is undoubtedly one of the most important lessons you will ever have during your years as a student in the Academy. As a student, you may or may not realize that this is the skill that you must rely most heavily on amidst battles for it is on your soul that you must trust, draw energy from and not on your physical brute force.

Having a zanpakuto is the key to your survival in a battle. However, it is a difficult concept to grasp, partly due to the fact that zanpakutos are in their nature a very complicated subject. Fundamentally however, all zanpakutos are a representation of their wielders soul, representing what they themselves abhor or in some cases, relish the most during their past lives.

Here are some of the most frequent questions that occur when one immerses him or herself within this branch of knowledge.

First and foremost …

_What is a zanpakuto? And what are the conditions required to master it?_

The mirror to your past, the reflection of future, the truth of your potential; all of these make up a zanpakuto. They are your past reincarnation, your future reincarnated body vessel, your inner being; representing what you desire, what you have done. They are your souls and have existed; serving you since the beginning of time, and they will continue to do so for as long as eternity goes, but only if you **trust** them.

**Unconditional trust** is the pact you must make with your zanpakuto because a zanpakuto has the power to determine whether his wielder is fit to wield him or her.

No matter how skilled the mortal is, he or she can never unlock their true potential without trust.

Only with trust can your truly answer destiny's callings; only by accepting your past, can you truly be invincible. It is because of trust that a wielder can wield his or her own zanpakuto effortlessly. The speed of your mastery over your zanpakuto requires on how fast you learn to accept the fact that the zanpakuto is your soul.

Every zanpakuto has his or her own name. Finding your zanpakuto's name is the first step to shouldering your past. And as you learnt to embrace it, you must control your anguish; understand your past wrong-doings and only then can you in turn be our own master, and not a mere puppet controlled by fate.

A zanpakuto never dies; it merely changes form. And as their wielders experience the changes of reincarnation, they too will don on a new appearance, a new name.

However, there have been rare cases where more than one soul to be attuned to the same spirit. In such cases, ancient law of our Society will not allow two beings to wield the same zanpakuto, in which case, they must duel for ownership of the spirit, with the winner gaining it and the loser being sentenced to death.

Zanpakuto that exist in you other life is functions on the same level as you do with your previous life; you are all essentially the same, yet completely different beings. It is simply impossible for a being or in this case a zanpakuto to remember all the details of his or her past lives.

XXXX

_Does a bigger zanpakuto mean a stronger wielder?_

This remains a debatable question, while a zanpakuto size reflects the amount of the wielder's spiritual power; it still does not imply that a bigger sword serves a stronger wielder. All experienced wielders consciously keep their Zanpakutō in a manageable size; otherwise everyone would be swinging around swords the size of mountains. Remember never to judge an opponent by the size of their zanpakuto, for it might just be the last mistake you make in your life.

XXXX

_Do zanpakutos exist in the same realm as us?_

And while, this question has deluded scholars for eons. Most believing that zanpakutos have their own "inner world", created within the minds of the Shinigami who wield them. As such, each Shinigami's inner world is drastically different from another Shinigami's and is unique to themselves.

A zanpakuto has a body form and possesses awareness akin to mortals. A zanpakuto's spirit can bring its wielder into its inner world, though a wielder can also voluntarily achieve this simply by meditation.

However, recent excavations of an archeological site have unearthed an old text. An engraving by an ancient civilization suggested that all zanpakutos souls seemed to have existed since the dawn of time and the creation of mortals. The people in this ancient civilization believe that there is **one dimension that connects every zanpakuto souls**, and in short every living mortal together.

Their reasoning was surprisingly logical, which meant in a nutshell that since there is reincarnation, then surely the people in this realm have also met each other before. A nod, a handshake; friends, foes; every one of us has a link with another. And overtime, the bonds have linked everyone together and formed a web.

A web that links every living thing in this world together as a singular but whole cycle.

However, since no real evidence can be shown depicting whether the engravings are an actual fact or the beliefs of an ancient civilization, most scholars remain skeptical and remain steadfastly clinging onto the belief that zanpakuto are simply a deity residing within our deepest consciousness.

XXXX

_If a zanpakuto never dies and as you mentioned mortals like us go through reincarnation, then can there truly be a realm of life after death? Does heaven exist? _

It is in my belief that heaven is merely another dimension plane. We are incapable of shedding light on this question to date. But still, it is my sincere belief that the realm were passed on mortals await reincarnation is the very same destination we known as 'heaven'.

Is there such a thing as destiny? Or maybe fate?

My dear readers, I am sorry but there is just too many possibilities to expect and calculate with these questions, that it becomes difficult to give a legitimate answer that veers closer to the facts.

That ladies and gentlemen, the uncovering of the answer to these questions may very well be the only impossibility in a mortal life. However, it is my sincere belief that fate, destiny, among others exists in a way that only the strongest may manipulate.

I sincerely do believe that there is no such thing as coincidences but merely the inevitable.

XXXX

And to conclude: I offer all my readers, this faithful piece of advice. Be it fate, destiny or heaven that you build the foundations of your belief on; a life once passed on, must remain as the past. There is no use in reminiscing as much as there is to controlling your anguish, disappointments, and regrets in the past and master the technique to shoulder them.

Written by,

A. Sosuke (48th year of Emperor Kidaara)

* * *

XXXX

As the keeper and head librarian to the Grand Library, Ishida Uryu could not help but snort as his quickly scanned over the foreword of the musty tome. His blue eyes shone bright with specks of amusement as he gently shut the thick ivy-coloured book tome, leaving the tome lying stationary and lifeless on the oak table.

He ran his fingers very slowly across the cover, afraid of even scratching the gold letterings etched across it. This was truly a sensational archeological find.

He threw a sideway glance to the partially unloaded crate lying dejectedly by the corner. The shipment that had recently arrived at the library was no short of a surprise. It had to be, in all his eight years of serving in the library as one of the most valuable assets to the library. And turned out not to be an imposter's work or fake.

The very ancient language that the writings of the tome took form of fitted the time frame of its supposed publication perfectly. This one in particular seemed unusually descriptive and detailed almost every major aspect of what a modern day Shinigami officer seated or otherwise needed to understand and learn about a zanpakuto.

Even when the pages have turned yellow and crinkled, even when some of the ink of the original texts has faded, he could tell by experience that this book was probably considered a novelty during its prime. Given the 700 hundred years that had passed since the Society's transition from a monarchy into a government coalition known as 'Central 46', it was nothing short of a miracle to have this tome show up in its rightful home with no serious indents or markings. If he didn't know it better, he would have said that it was a Heaven sent gift.

But then again, Uryu like all Quincys were staunch believers of reincarnation. It was a form of teaching and thinking that has been passed down from father to son. But still, he found it immensely interesting that an author that wrote on the subject of zanpakutos would involve the workings and theories of reincarnation in his work.

He wondered if the author of the book had been a Quincy too though the obvious detailed writings concerned with the workings of a zanpakuto suggested otherwise.

A child of both Quincy and Shinigami blood, perhaps?

No, even then the idea was too far-fetched. The two different races obviously hated each other to the core of their beings. During his history lessons in school, Uryu had learnt that the real reason behind the animosity had been greed.

Greed and hunger of land and gold caused the bloodshed to happen, though he was not taught who was at fault. He was rationally aware that both the Shinigamis and Quincys were involved. Both have killed and been killed, as was the unwritten rule in a war: no one can remain innocent and that there could only be one winner.

XXXX

As an appreciator and preserver of all forms of ancient art, Uryu would never have turned down the opportunity to examine and devour the book of its contents before carefully preserving and restoring it to its former glory. It was the most enjoying and interesting part of his job, since the other part of it included his duty to inform his higher-ups about his find.

The writings were made even more alluring in his eyes since the book was written in his mother tongue- the oldest known form of language and main form of writing during the reign of monarchs which was almost 700 years ago, perhaps even older. And, he was probably the only one who could decipher them.

It was the fact that this book contained information, valuable information about Shinigami and zanpakutos that made him hesitate in his decision.

_Shinigamis._

He spat the word out like poison, as if even forming the syllables of the words could guarantee his death. It was ironic really; that the proud race derived their name from the Quincys hatred of them. The original meaning of the word, he knew was 'death scum'. Quincys loathed Shinigamis so much that they feel as though the Shinigamis were so revolting that even death would not accept their souls when they pass on.

The Shinigamis however thought that the word meant 'conqueror of death' and stuck to name even after the war. A smirk fleeted upon his lips. It would have been an inside joke among Quincys, had he not been the only Quincy left.

He chuckled bitterly. Here he was, Ishida Uryu, successor to the Ishida estate, last of the Quincys; working as a mere librarian under the Shinigamis, their sworn enemies. Will the irony never cease, he mused. He slid the spectacles off the bridge of his nose, placing it very gently on the oak table before pulling up a chair for himself.

Reclining on the chair, he sighed; rubbing his temple wearily. There were times when he would spend the night sleepless, glaring at the ceiling but subconsciously reliving the horrifying moments as he watched his grandfather lying on his deathbed in the infirmary ward. Soken had taken the full brunt of the sudden assault from the Quincy-hating thugs; littering the old man with deep gashes and sore wounds. The old man had become so fragile, so weak, so lifeless; yet, he could still smile.

And the fact that he was so forgiving towards him made the guilt he felt all the more unbearable. It was all the Shinigamis fault that his sensei, beloved grandfather was dying but he couldn't do a single thing to amend his mistake. They should have arrived earlier, should have kept a healer on standby; but those heartless bastards didn't even bother to lift a finger to help.

XXXX

_Uryu, do not blame the Shinigamis. It is simply time for me to pass on. Soon, I shall join our brothers and sisters in the wheel of reincarnation. We live on; I live on, in your heart. Death is but a small part of life._

XXXX

He clenched his fist. That was all his sensei said before he was rudely ushered out of the ward. The Shinigamis took away too many precious things in his life- the legacy of his tribe, the integrity of his clan, the life of his families; so much things, that these godless creatures yanked away from the happy existence of a young child.

How could they?

Who gave them the power to carry out genocide against his people?

They had no right. They had no right at all. He hated them. He hated all of them so much that there were times when he simply wished he could be that brash, hotheaded Kurosaki and just murder every Shinigami in sight. Their blood awash in his hands, their screams echoing in his ears…

_So why are you still working for the Shinigamis?_

_Because I ne-_

XXXX

"Ishida-kun, are you alright?"

Roughly being jolted from his reverie, Uryu shot up, leaping from the chair as if it was on fire. He spun around, facing the intruder. Acting purely on instinct, he spared no time in drawing out his Quincy Cross. Forming a bow and arrow faster than he could blink, he steeled his blue eyes into slits; the blue jets of energy that were given off from the bow and arrow seemed to be reflected within the specks of his eyes as he set his lips into a grim line.

It was only when his eyes met the brown benevolent gaze of Aizen Sosuke did he lower his bow. Releasing the hold of his bow, the blue particles of energy slowly drifted away and disappeared in thin air.

Casually sliding the miniature cross into his pockets, Uryu felt somewhat embarrassed at pointing his arrow towards a Captain and one of his higher-ups. Had his fingers slipped, the man standing before him would have simply been removed from existence, along with his soul.

The penalty for his crime would have been death.

"Aizen-taicho," he mumbled as he gave an awkward nod towards the smiling Captain. "My sincerest apologies, I thought you were an intruder. I hope that my rude actions have not offended you."

Aizen answered with perfect clarity and as expected the kindly smile never once faded from sight. "Of course I would not take offence at your actions, Ishida-kun. You seemed rather tired as of late, sleepless nights? Perhaps you need more helpers in the library? I shall urge the Council to approve the budget plan for developments in the Grand Library. And with that, I plan to employ more librarians."

"Thank you for your kind consideration, Aizen-taicho. But I am afraid that is highly unnecessary. My family has been entrusted with the sole responsibility of managing the library as a condition for my kind's surrender. It would be a great insult to my ancestors, should I accept your gracious offer."

"Ah, but Ishida-kun, the war is the past. We have all moved on since then. We need to cooperate, to help each other," said Aizen as he offered his hand to Uryu.

Uryu glared at the hand before answering a cold manner, "Perhaps your kind has, Aizen-taicho. But mine simply doesn't have the man power capable of moving on after the genocide."

Eying the slick-haired Captain before him, he continued in the same cold manner.

"Now if you will excuse me, Captain. I simply must get back to the shipment that arrived yesterday before retiring for the night. And please Aizen-taicho; tell all the shinigami officers that the library is closed at 8 pm sharp. Punctuality is the courtesy of kings. They could at least understand that much, can they not?"

He tried to gauge the older man's reaction. And for a while, he almost saw Aizen's smile falter, unreadable even sinister but then again it could have been the dim lighting of the room. He made a mental note to tell the higher-ups of the problem during the monthly meeting next week.

He snapped back into reality just as soon as Aizen shifted his movement. Aizen lifted his outstretched palm to the back of his head, running through his brown locks in an awkward manner. Curling up his lips, he gave Uryu yet another glimpse of his pearly whites.

"Ah, a thousand apologies, Ishida-kun. It seemed as though the guest has offended the host. How callous of me. I shall see myself out but I hope that you can find it within you to forgive my careless remarks, Ishida-kun. I truly meant no harm. Now, as you were."

With that, Aizen spun around, leaving the same way he came in. The sound of his echoing footsteps drifted further and further until finally, Uryu could hear nothing.

XXXX

Sighing, he went forward the table, retrieving the tome and his pair of spectacles with both of his hands. As the spectacles fitted perfectly on top of the bridge of his nose, he couldn't help but notice something. Out of the corner of his eyes, however, he noticed the signature 'A. Sosuke'. A shiver went down his spine, but like every certified genius of the century, he ignored it.

After all, Sosuke was a common name. And who's to say that 'A.' absolutely had to stand for 'Aizen'. He could think of a lot of family surnames beginning with 'A.'. He sighed, mentally berating himself for his silliness. He really should get some shut-eyes. He was turning paranoid.

Striding across the magnificent library, he stifled a yawn as he shut out the artificial lights that kept the library aglow and warm. Mechanically placing one foot in front the other, he had almost reached the narrow passage that linked his family's manor to the library when he recognized the faint strands of reiatsu that he was painfully familiar with.

He froze. It was Inoue-san's, but this time her reiatsu seemed troubled, as if she was in a terrible state of distress. She was heading towards the manor. He frowned.

Had she been bullied?

Not by the Kurosakis, he hoped. It simply wasn't possible. Isshin was too much of a child, Yuzu was too kind, Karin was too normal.

It must have something to do with that damn Kurosaki Ichigo.

He grounded his teeth. Just what did he do this time?

Questions reeled inside his mind, but he was quick to collect himself. He had to find out what was wrong with Inoue-san. Adrenaline pumping, he dropped the heavy tome and without sparing it another glance, begun to speed towards the manor.

Above him, lightning cackled maliciously as the sound of thunder reverberated through the open air. He cursed his luck, of all the times for rain, why did it simply have to be now. Foregoing the rational choice of picking up an umbrella, he ran through the rain; occasionally sliding his foot into a pool of mud and damaging his well-dignified attire as a librarian. His eyes stung, vision blurring as rain slid down his spectacles.

But he simply did not care. He kept on running. Even when his lungs began to hurt and his feet felt as though they were on fire, he still ran.

There was only one objective on his mind. And it was simple.

He had to help out the poor, helpless girl.

And yet, nothing could have prepared him to be greeted by the sight of a thoroughly soaked Inoue as he came to a halt in front of his front door. Her pink kimono had been splashed with dirty puddles and specks of mud. Then, he noticed her shoes or rather her lack there-of and the ugly sight of angry, swelling cuts adorning her feet. Merciful heavens, did she walk all the way from the Kurosaki estate to see him shoeless?

He shook his head in dismay. He was going to have to give that Kurosaki a stern talking-to the next time he sees him. His line of vision trailed upwards. Her vibrant orange tresses so bright and beautiful resembled nothing more than a mop drenched in water, her normal cheerful eyes had turned red from crying and then he finally saw her tear-streaked face. Her face that basked in the summer glow had turned into a sorrowful mask of hurt and anxiety.

He stood, rooted to the ground; sharing her sadness. And then, much like a young, miserable child, Orihime ran towards him, burying her head against his chest while bawling her heart out. Normally, he would have been embarrassed by their awkward position. His Quincy teaching had taught him that no man and woman without family ties should be involved in such intimate gestures.

_However…_

However, this time, he let it slide. How could he not? When the object of his unrequited affections clung onto him so snugly, as if he was her salvation. This time, Ishida Uryu merely wrapped his hands tighter around Inoue Orihime holding her closer as they stood under the heavy downpour that showed no signs of stopping at all.

He would have chided others for their silly antics of standing in the rain, and yet at this very moment, Ishida Uryu had never felt more alive in his entire life. Here he was standing in the rain, holding Orihime Inoue in his arms- the maiden of his dreams who longed after another.

He sighed, relishing every moment of their embrace even when he knew he would forever be a second fiddle in Inoue-san's heart. He was truly immersed in the moment, memorizing every single detail of her in the rain even when he could have sworn that he heard the sound of his heart breaking.

_Ah…_

_To be the hero in the maiden's dreams. _

What he would give for that, but he wasn't a hero and he will never be her hero. That fact was made painfully conscious to him with every shuddering breath that Orihime took and every whimper that she simply wrapped his arms tighter. His cold chin perched right at the her shoulders. She was crying, mumbling incoherently against his chest; her cries rivaling the falling rain in terms of despair. But he was far worse, he was bleeding; bleeding right in his heart. And she couldn't, probably never will see his tears.

Damn that Kurosaki for making her cry.

And as Orihime shook and cried with absolute despair, Uryu was pretty sure that his own tears had joined in the mix, confused with the surrounding raindrops.

It was raining that night.

His tears, her tears, the raindrops had all joined into the pitter-patter of the falling rain that thundered across the estate that night.

* * *

XXXX

Turning a sharp corner to his left, Aizen was not overly pleased as he was joined by his second in-command. Warping the black cardigan closer along his body, he gave a glance and nod at the other man, beckoning him to join him. Keeping closer to the wall, he made small, calculated steps to avoid the pouring rain. He did not appreciate being drenched in a month so close to Winter. Catching a cold would have set back some of his plans. And he did not particular enjoy setbacks to his plans.

"So, I take it that the meeting did not go well?" came the inquiring voice as the shadow behind Aizen slowly began to take form of the legendary Ichimaru Gin. Unlike his predecessor, he chose to disregard the dousing rain; taking large strides across the pavement, wholly unconcerned about the weather. His skeletal appearance seemed even more sinister as the rain molded his clothes tightly against his pale skin. His unusual silver hair however seemed to have appear a shade paler, turning it into a mass of sheer white mope as he passed through the streets illuminated by the artificial street lamps.

"On the contrary, Gin. I think it went quite well. I can finally put my plan in motion. It seemed that the Ishida brat is really a genuine Quincy," said Aizen as he strode confidently down the street.

Gin frowned. The stream of answers within riddles was beginning to annoy him. "So he's the missing fish that escaped the net. Is there any particular desire for fish as of late?"

Aizen gave him a stern look, pausing momentarily as if to recollect his thoughts before addressing Gin. "I never miss a target, Gin. You should know better. He or rather his soul is a crucial part in my plans. Which reminds me, do you know how a Quincy's soul look like, Gin?"

Gin kept his face impassive, appearing not the slightest curious about the subject as Aizen continued on. He missed the warmth of food and shelter as he felt his toes go numb.

"It's really quite interesting, Gin. You see, they resemble nothing more than a glow. One blank, unidentifiable blob that simply glows. They lack the complicated visage of Shinigami souls- the zanpakuto. They're like asauchis- the class of nameless zanpakuto that all low-class Shinigami wield. They have not 'evolved' from the primitive beings they once were 1,500 years ago. Tell me, Gin. Don't you find it pathetic?"

"Humph."

"Do you why Shinigami souls have evolved, Gin?"

"I'm sure that you have a brilliant explanation for this as always, Aizen-sama."

"Very well. It's because I created them. And as with all my creations, they have turned up exceptionally well, don't you think? And they say that only Kami-sama has the power to create life? A pack of lies!" exclaimed Aizen in an unusually bitter tone as his well-polished boots came in contact with the dirty puddles of stagnant water.

"It would seem that you are a God walking among men then, Aizen-sama," said Gin monotonously. The rain continued to drench them in its bitter coldness. Gin fought down a shiver; schooling his expressions to remain neutral and impassive, as if Aizen was commenting of the weather instead of staking his narcissistic, arrogant claims.

Aizen kept his silence, breaking it only after they had reached the crossroads. In the bitter Autumn night, they were the only two alone in the dark streets; walking like mannequins as if they weren't perturbed by the rain at all; one in front of the other amidst the shroud of raining water.

Aizen took his leave. "Oh and Gin, as much as I enjoy our evening chats, I really do not appreciate mockery and sarcasm. After all, we would not want any accidents involving the pretty little chrysanthemum of yours now, would we?"

Without waiting for a response from Gin, Aizen walked on. His steps as calculated as before, careful to avoid unwanted puddles; leaving Gin alone standing in his original spot.

As he watched the distant figure of Aizen slowly melting away, Gin couldn't help but grit his teeth and clench his fists, half out of frustration of his inability to protect and half out of annoyance with his superior. It seemed that with every passing moment spent in Aizen's company, the more he became confused at the workings of their world.

Did that man really did as he claimed and create a whole different race while annihilating the original species of the land?

Won't that make him a God? A real-life God who had lived thousands of years? An immortal.

The very thought of the mad man as a God unnerved him. He had witnessed first-hand the things he did, knowing he could do much more than that was not comforting at all. Sighing, he tilted his head upwards, feeling the cool sensation of water against his heated soul and anger.

He wanted so badly to return home; to return home to Ran-chan, but how could he keep her safe if he involved her with this. Ran-chan simply wasn't the woman to just accept the facts he gives to her; this was a strong-willed vixen who charmed and threatened and cajoled the truth out of him. She would get hurt if she decided to get involved in his affairs.

He sighed. Aizen, wasn't a God walking among men. He was the Devil.

And he was sure there are plenty of others who shared his view.

* * *

XXXX

They say that Kurosaki Isshin was one of the strongest Captains ever in the history of all Gotei 13 Captains. They say that he was so strong that his son's abilities were only a quarter of his. They say he was so strong that he once survived in the desert for a whole fortnight without any water. They say he was so strong that he singlehandedly rescue a kidnapped noble, killing every bandit involved in the heist faster than you can blink.

But if you ask Kurosaki Karin what she thought about her legendary father. She would look you straight in the eyes and with no hesitation at all; tell you that all of the incredible feats her father pulled off must be a pack of lies and plain old bull.

Because standing no less than 5 steps away, Kurosaki Karin gave her trademark scowl at the sight of her 'incredible' father hunched and stooped, kneeling behind the huge mahogany door while eavesdropping.

She grounded her teeth. Honestly, what was he? A child. Had he no shame. He needed to behave more like an adult. This simply couldn't be **the** legendary Kurosaki Isshin. Not when the man hunching before her looked more like a psychiatric patient than a fearsome Captain and needed a daughter's 'help' to behave.

"OI! Goat-chin! Stop snooping around," she hollered as she yanked her father's ear hard and forcibly dragged him away from the door.

Unsurprisingly, he started weeping. She rolled her eyes. She swore sometimes tackling him was more taxing than handling a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"B-B-But Karin-chan," he spluttered. "This is for the sake of your brother. Don't you feel even slightly curious about what's going there inside between that girl and your brother? Doesn't Auntie Karin have a certain ring to it?"

"NO," she replied; pulling with all her might to move her father who had decided to put up a fight. And god, was he heavy! What did he do? Stuff himself with iron bars every meal. She yanked harder.

"Karin-chan, don't you think it would be marvelous to have a little niece or nephew running around the house? Don't you like children?" cried her father; struggling to ward off his daughter's death grip.

"I hate children, especially babies. They make too much noise like YOU and have problems obeying simple commands," she replied indignantly while tugging hard at his legs.

"Oh, Masaki. Our daughter is so cruel to me. What sins have I committed to deserve such a heartless daughter?"

"What sins have I done to deserve such an annoying father!"

"Oh, Karin-chan is being so cruel to me."

"Shut up! You big baby!"

XXXX

After the very hard, very exhausting seventh pull, Karin was finally on the verge of giving up while old goat-chin had still stubbornly clung on to the carpet. And to make it even worse, she had ran out of verbal taunts. She had even started agreeing with her father that maybe having babies inside the house wasn't such a bad idea after all. She was fuming.

Sweat had dampened the back of her shirt as she tiredly panted out of sheer exhaustion of pulling the dead weight that was her father. She gritted her teeth even harder as she saw the smug grin on her father face.

"It was an impressive show of strength, my beloved Karin-chan. However, you are simply no match for Papa!" said Isshin as he winked at his daughter and giving her a thumbs-up sign. Karin growled menacingly; knowing her father, the old goat-chin was probably thinking how great and utterly awesome he was.

_We'll see about that._

Karin smirked. So he thought he had won? She narrowed her eyes into slits. She still had one more trick up her sleeves. And this was one trick that literally guaranteed her win. Even Isshin's face of happiness withered when he saw the demonic gleam in his eldest daughter's eyes- specked with just a tinge of red; her face had even turned magically sinister as he imagined vampire-like fangs extending from her mouth. He gulped and it took all of his 'manly' resolve to not let go of the carpet and run away screaming like a little girl.

"Yuzu, old goat-chin flushed Bostafu down the toilet again!"shouted Karin.

"He did WHAT?"

"NO! Karin-chan's lying. Papa would never do something like that to his beloved daughters, no matter how ugly the doll looked like. Quick Yuzu-chan, cover your ears and say 'I'm not listening'!"

"AHHHHHHH! Save me, Karin-chan!"

* * *

Author's Note:

Ok so the last part might have been a tad bit too OOC and um… odd. I mean since when did Yuzu act violent right? But I still think it was pretty funny. Think of it as a sort of compensation to balance the very angst mode of the first and second part. I was halfway freaking out with how angsty and emo I made Uryu. Do you guys think I did okay?

I spent a very long time getting the cast and characters with the right dialogue together. So now, we can all know what a zanpakuto soul is and what are Shinigamis in the story. I hope I have not disappointed anyone. More revelations to come in the next few chapters.

And of course, the much-awaited 'Ichiruki meeting' will take place in the next chapter. I am sorry if I made any open promises that I broke with the publication of this chapter. And yes, the pace is crawling, trust me folks, I know. So please be patient.

I guess I just have so many stories unfinished on my hands but not enough time to update. Hopefully, you will all review. And with more review, maybe we can all have a quicker update on 'Requiem'.

PS. Aaroniero will appear as Kaien in the story. No offence, Tite, but the old, basket thingy on his/ her original body just creeped the hell out of me.

PPS. Big thanks to **leedakay** for her support. (Thank you, leedie-chan!)

REVIEWS ARE A GREAT, CONSIDERATE GIFT!;)


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